Dreaming of Home
by Mamajules12
Summary: Jean discovers a mysterious box in the garden leading her on a trail to find Lucien. Using her knowledge of her husband with the help of her friends she works to bring him home while keeping her family safe.
1. Chapter 1

**This story picks up right where my story New Partners leaves off in the epilogue. This story makes references to New Partners and my fic City of Light, City of Love. It is not necessary to read those stories to enjoy this one but it may help with information and small details I have added. Enjoy.**

Jean makes her way into the sunroom to gather the bulbs for planting after enjoying a peaceful cup of tea. The week since putting Christopher on the train a cold rain falls daily matching her mood. Sending her son off to a foreign land of unrest fills her with worry that nearly makes her physically ill, despite Christopher's insistence that he will be safe. Jean knows how quickly life can change, how safety and security can be a ruse. She distracts herself with council business and settling Ruby and Amelia into her home, the weather allowing little else.

Jean's little partner insists on sharing the large bed in the studio with her grandmother despite the discussions prior to moving that she is to sleep in her own room. Amelia loves her Nana's old room, redone just for her but it is lacking her grandmother that she most admires. The first night Amelia slips into her bed long after she should be asleep. Jean welcomes the comfort of the child, whispering _just for tonight Poppet. _

Of course Jean realizes the error in doing this after several nights of tears and sleeplessness follow. Ruby's constant fighting with child and apologizing for her daughter's behavior is nearly as exhausting as the child's tantrums and need for her grandmother. It all came to a head the night before when Jean scolds both the Beazley girls.

"That is enough you two! Amelia Jean, you stop arguing with your mother now. Go up stairs to your room and stay there all night. We are done discussing this. March!"

Amelia's blue eyes lock with Jean's in defiance, the child finally relinquishing defeat. "Yes, Nana."

Jean turns to her daughter in law, who is wearing a look of disbelief at her child's retreat. "Ruby, I know you and I haven't always agreed but you need to stop arguing with your daughter or this situation is not going to work. Go get a good night's sleep and tomorrow take her to get registered for school. You both need something to occupy your time."

She sends her family off after a hearty breakfast into a beautiful sun filled day. Jean packs the girls a picnic lunch when she makes Matthew and Peter's ensuring herself a few hours alone. Her life once again is taking a new, unexpected direction but this morning she just wants some time in her garden to center herself once again for what lies ahead.

Jean walks the garden edge spacing the bulbs so that come spring there will be color scattered throughout; wanting to make sure she has enough to cover the area before planting. She turns to allow the sun to warm her face, breathing deeply the scent of the earth around her. This has been her place from the moment she moved to the house and saw the neglected gardens, the potential of the land. She pauses a moment at the big rock Jack moved for her, thinking of the sunny morning Lucien teasingly placed it amongst her flowers. Her heart fills, smiling at the memory of her dear husband's playfulness. A few hours later she was kissing him good-bye before he boarded a flight to Sydney.

Three bulbs left, she decides to clump them together to fill in the spot that last week the rock still occupied. Jean kneels down, the ground cool despite the warm sun. She begins digging with her spade when she catches a glimpse of something shiny. Not sure what could be reflecting the sunlight she continues to dig until she hits something hard. "What on earth?" The tool is set aside as Jean swipes away the dirt with her hand, revealing the top of a small metal box.

Jean begins digging frantically at the ground surrounding the box. She can feel the tears well in her eyes, her heart beating so hard that her chest aches. Only one person would bury a metal box in her garden. She removes her gloves in a fury to get better leverage to lift it out of the damp earth. When it finally breaks free, Jean sits back on the ground clasping it close to her chest, trembling with fear at what it may contain. Breathing deeply Jean calms herself enough to start thinking rationally. _Whatever is in this, Lucien put it in the ground before he left. Calm yourself, could be nothing more than an experiment._

Between her shaking hands and the dirt caked in it, she struggles to unlatch the lid. The metal finally gives way with a such force that it springs the lid open revealing the contents at once; a key and a sealed envelope. A moment of disappointment fills her at the lack of contents to be buried away for her to find. She holds up the key, squinting to try and recognize it but unable to place it. Turning the envelope over she sees it is addressed to her, simply stating _Jean_, in Lucien's distinct handwriting that is known to her so well.

She stares at her name for a long time before getting the courage to open the envelope. The first thing she notes is the date. The day before he left for the fateful trip to Sydney. The first words take her breath away. She can hear Lucien's voice whispering them in her ear _My Dearest Jean_.

"Jean, there you are? I've been trying to reach you for over an hour. Haven't you heard the phone ringing?" Alice makes her way to her friend in the garden. "Jean, what are you doing sitting on the damp ground?" Alice halts as she looks down at Jean covered in dirt, the evidence of tears on her face. "What is it?"

Jean's hand, shaking uncontrollably, holds out a piece of paper to Alice, her dear confidant the past year. Lucien found great humor in their friendship, the ladies have little in common except for the fact that they are both kind, strong, intelligent woman. "It's from Lucien."

Alice's disbelief is clear in her face. Taking the letter, she sits down next to Jean and begins to read aloud the words he wrote to his wife.

_My Dearest Jean,_ _April 2, 1963_

_If you are reading this it means I have been gone longer than I ever intended. I am hoping I will be home long before you ever discover this. Unfortunately, I know all too well how the government and the Secret Service work so I am breaking every rule by writing this letter to you but you deserve to know the truth. Firstly, whatever you have been told is a lie, contrived by very powerful people. Secondly, believe me, I never wanted to be involved in this again. You and our life together is more than enough for me. I have no choice but to do this. I need to keep you and our family safe. Trust no one but the few we hold closest to us. I have enclosed a key that can be used across the street from our favorite cafe in Melbourne. Remember the wonderful times in Paris. Someday we will tour the city once again visiting the friends we made. I will dream of home and you until I can hold you once again._

_All my love forever and always,_

_Your Lucien_

"Oh God, Alice. I should have found this last year. What have I done?" Jean loses every last bit of control of her emotions with the proximity of her friend and hearing Lucien's words read aloud. Alice cradles Jean allowing her to cry on her shoulder. Alice's own tears rising at the realization that Lucien may be alive somewhere trying to get home.

The doctor's mind is reeling with questions but she finds it difficult to voice them all. "Jean, do you understand what Lucien is telling you?"

Jean pulls away from Alice's shoulder and nods. She swallows hard, _trust the few we hold closest._ Yes, Alice is most definitely a trusted friend that can be counted on to help. "After the war, Lucien worked for the Secret Service in intelligence."

"A spy? I had no idea." Jean notices a hint of hurt in Alice's face that Lucien kept the secret from her.

"No one knows, Alice, not even Matthew though I suspect he has an idea of what Lucien did because of the trouble with Alderton."

"But you knew."

"Yes, yes I knew. He first mentioned it to me when the Soviet spy was murdered in the park. Before we were married he told me a bit more. It was while we were in Paris that I learned most of what I know. Things happened, memories and people from the past. He didn't want to keep secrets from me but he couldn't tell me everything. Every now and then he would tell me things. It gave him comfort to be able to finally talk about some of the things he saw and did. But he would also get afraid that I knew too much or at least certain people may think I knew too much."

"Pillow talk? In the letter he says to remember Paris."

"Oh Alice. Lucien would never tell me anything or do anything to put me in danger. You know that! If anything he would give his life for mine!" Jean abruptly stands, the metal box which still houses the key falling to the ground, the panic rising in her. "I think I'm going to be ill."

In the distance they hear the unmistakable chatter of Amelia heading towards the house. The women's eyes lock. "Come on. Let's get you in your room. Clean you up. They don't need to see you like this." Alice gathers the box, placing the letter along with the key inside.

Through the sunroom and kitchen Alice pulls Jean along. At the door they hear Ruby and Amelia talking about how exciting going to school will be. Alice thrusts the box into Jean arms and pushes her towards the studio. "Go! I'll take care of them."

Jean turns to give a thanks but Alice is already making her way down the hall. She hears Alice speaking but can't make out the words. Grateful that her friend is taking charge if only for a little while to allow her to think. Think of what happens next.

In the bedroom Jean catches her reflection in the mirror. _No wonder Alice sent me to clean up._ She places the box down that she has unconsciously been clingy to and begins peeling off her filthy clothes. Once in the shower with the steam rising she allows herself another good cry for all the what ifs before absolving herself of things that were out of her control.

Jean wraps Lucien's robe around herself, sitting on the bed reading through the letter again this time with a clearer mind. There are so few words written and yet she knows that there must be more meaning in them. _I can do this Lucien. I'll bring you home. _

She holds up the key, finally taking a good look at it. It is too small to be a door key, maybe it is to a lock or a safety deposit box. Frustration takes hold, "What favorite cafe Lucien? We don't have a favorite in Melbourne!" She says aloud as she slams her fist in a pillow. _Think Jean!_

She lays down looking at her husband's side of the bed. Breathing deeply to clear her thoughts, she closes her eyes. The heaviness of exhaustion starts taking hold of her body when her eyes pop open. Focusing on Lucien's pillow as she speaks to the void, "Adelaide! Of course, it's Adelaide."

"Adelaide! Are you sure Jean? The letter says Melbourne."

Jean emerges from the en-suite having put the finishing touches on her face so nothing looks amiss to her waiting family. "I'm positive. The only cafe Lucien ever called our favorite is in Adelaide. Remember when I went there after Amelia was born?"

"Yes. Lucien took a vacation there at the same time." Alice's sometimes innocence in matters of the heart endear her more to Jean.

"Alice, he didn't just vacation there. He followed me or rather literally chased down the bus after me." She smiles at the memory. "We had a lot to talk about, to figure out. We would meet at this little cafe that is near the hotel Lucien stayed at. It became our favorite and every time we visited Adelaide we would go there. And Alice, across the street is a bank." Jean holds up the key. "It has to be it."

"So, are you just going to take off for Adelaide?"

"No. Yes. Well not yet. I have to make some calls first. Figure some things out first." She picks up the phone receiver, then slowly puts it back. "I can't call from here."

"You have more privacy here than anywhere else. Amelia is seeking you out as we speak."

"No, I mean I can't call from this house." Jean looks around the studio. The fear that she has spoken too much aloud gripping her. What if the house is bugged? She is sure that her phone lines are and probably have been for sometime.

"Jean, you don't think."

"You know what Alice? You are probably right. I have this all wrong. It's all so confusing. What I need to do is make a nice dinner for everybody." As Jean speaks, Alice watches her take a pad of paper out of the vanity. Jean quickly scribbles something down. She hands the scrap of paper to Alice as she walks past towards the door. "Matthew and Peter should be home soon."

"Right. I'll help with the veg." Alice reads the note. _Garden now!_

"Jean what is all this about?" Alice asks once outside.

"I'm sure the phone lines are tapped but Alice the house may be bugged also and if it is I may have already said too much." Jean brow furrow, deep in thought as she thinks of what to do. "We can't discuss this in the house until I know for sure." She pauses, closing her eyes before speaking again. "I need to call someone in Paris." She says to herself as much as to her friend.

"Who?"

"A friend, please don't ask more Alice. Not until I know more, understand better what is happening."

"You want to use my phone?" Jean's head shakes before Alice can finish. "You don't think my phone also?"

Head still shaking, "I just don't know. It's no secret that you are a good friend of Lucien and myself. I need to think."

"Nana!" The child's voice makes both women spin to see the innocent face bounding towards them. "Here you are. Guess what?" Amelia runs up to her grandmother, leaping into her arms.

"What?" Jean manages to croak out.

Amelia's small arms encircle her Nana's neck pulling her in so that the pair are nose to nose. "I get to go to school...everyday."

Holding her granddaughter close, Jean once again finds comfort from the child. She breathes deeply the scent that is unmistakable Amelia. "Everyday? You are growing too fast poppet." Jean and Alice lock eyes over Amelia both acutely aware of the danger that may lay ahead and just what is at stake.


	2. Chapter 2

Somehow with Alice's guiding hand Jean is able to get dinner on the table which avoids the questions that will arise if no evening meal is ready for the family. Amelia chatters away about her day to the adults. Peter enthusiastically recounts his own tales of school to the child. Everyone's focus is on Amelia. When a lull in the conversation occurs, Alice is quick to re engage the child assuring a long story will follow. It is only Matthew that notices Jean's far away look, the untouched food, the silence from his friend.

"Jean, are you alright?" Matthew asks when there is a pause from Amelia, her mouth full of potatoes.

She is about to say fine but can't bring herself to say it. The friends lock eyes across the table. "You know, I'm not quite feeling myself. If you'll excuse me. I think I'll retire early tonight."

Alice chimes in, "We'll take care of all this Jean. Go rest." Matthew gives her a strange look, all eyes on Jean but Alice's, who seems to be focusing on the peas on her plate, which doesn't go unnoticed by Matthew either.

It is obvious to Matthew that Alice is aware of what is ailing Jean. Thinking it might be something to do with women's issues he lets it go with no further questioning. He decides some things he doesn't need to know about his friend, despite her being like a sister.

In the quiet of her bedroom, Jean lets out a breath that she has been holding. Slowly she peels off the layers of clothes that suddenly feel constricting. She sits at the edge of her bed wrapped in a shirt of Lucien's, his scent barely a trace in the fabric or is she just dreaming that it is still there. Her mind is reeling as she looks around the spacious bedroom. _Damn you, Lucien! Where do I start? _

A soft knock on the door breaks the silence startling Jean. "May I come in?" Alice's head peers around the door, finding Jean standing on a chair reaching above the bureau, the room in disarray. "What are you doing?" closing the door quickly behind her, Alice approaches Jean offering a hand as she steps off the chair.

"I was just looking if there might be any listening devices in here." she whispers. "I haven't found any so…" trailing off.

"So it's safe in here to talk?"

Jean gives a small nod, "but we should still be careful. I don't know about the rest of the house."

Alice is at a loss as to how to help her friend. "Everyone has gone to bed. I'm going to head home unless you want me to stay?"

"Oh! Is it that late already?" She shakes her head at the loss of time and Alice's question. "Go home. I'm fine."

"You're not fine." Alice's heart breaks for Jean, the pillar of strength throughout the past year stands before her disheveled wearing Lucien's clothes, exhaustion in her eyes. "Do you want me to give you something to sleep?"

"No. I'll go to bed soon. I'm going to pick up this mess I made first ." Both women know that sleep won't come to either tonight.

Alice hesitates to leave, so much to say but unsure of just what. "You should tell Matthew."

Jean nods, "not yet though. I need to figure out too much. The less people that know the better."

"Jean, you will let me help you? Lucien wouldn't want you to do this alone."

"Alice, I…" she wants to tell her friend that she must do it on her own, that she can't risk endangering her friends; that only she knows Lucien's secrets, mind, his heart but the pleading look on their dear friend's face stops her. "I'll let you help when I need it, promise."

In an uncharacteristic move Alice embraces Jean, squeezing her tightly. "We'll bring him home." Before Jean can respond, Alice is out the door, leaving her standing in the cold room.

Jean picks up a few things, frustration rising with every passing minute till she can take no more. Unable to contain herself any longer, the glass she is holding leaves her grasp shattering in the hearth breaking the spell of anger that overcame her. She wipes away the tears that are streaming down her face. _This will never do. Pull yourself together._

Jean notes the time, does some quick calculations before slipping on a pair of trousers, tucking the long shirttails in as she slips her feet into a pair of shoes. She makes her way quietly out of the bedroom throwing a cardigan over her shoulders. Before making her way down the hall, she pauses to make sure the shattering glass didn't wake Matthew.

Down the hallway she grabs her purse and keys before turning into the surgery. She pulls out Lucien's address book from the back of the desk drawer, hoping the number she needs is between the pages. She will check once she gets inside The Colonist but right now she must hurry before Cec leaves for the night.

The streets heading to the club are quiet at such a late hour. Jean parks the car in the alley to enter at the back door. She can hear a few voices from the kitchen. She gives an audible sigh of relief that everyone has not left for the night. Her knock is full of ernest, too loud in the still of the night even to her own ears.

A young waiter answers apprehensively until he sees the friendly familiar face on the other side. "Mrs. Blake, what can I do for at this late hour?"

"I'm sorry to bother you, Timothy. Is Mr. Drury still in?"

"Yes. He is upstairs. I'll take you to him."

"Thank you."

Cec looks up from the nightly books, shock on his face at seeing Jean at the door behind the young waiter. He notices the tired, bloodshot eyes, the absence of red lipstick and a men's shirt collar sticking out from the blue cardigan. "Jean?" He leads Jean into the small office. "Timothy, get Mrs. Blake a sherry."

"I'm sorry Cec. I didn't know where else to go."

"Jean, Jean. You know you I'm always here for you."

"I do." She sits, suddenly feeling unsteady on her feet. There probably is some medical term that Lucien would give to what she is feeling but that doesn't concern her at the moment. "Cec, I need to ask a favor of you."

"Of course, anything."

"I need to use the phone." Cec's confusion reads plainly on his face. "I need to make a long distance call. A very important call and I can't use my home line." The faithful friend's eyes perk up, not fully comprehending but knowing that if Lucien Blake's wife is asking for help, then it must be truly important. "I will pay for the bill when it arrives but if anyone questions it…"

"I'll say I have family over sea, in ?"

"Paris."

"Yes, Paris. And will I be expecting any calls coming in?"

Jean swallows hard, "I don't know yet. Possibly."

"Very good. Take as much time as you need." Cec gives Jean a gently rub on her shoulder before he leaves her in the private office.

Jean takes the small book from her purse to search for the number. _Please let it be here. _She looks under the obvious, M for McLeod. Naturally it isn't there. Just to ease her mind of the next obvious she checks G for George. Next she checks the name of the restaurant in both french and english. Her heart sinks when there is no Lamplighter to be found. She starts flipping the pages when an odd entry catches her attention under S; Scottish Flower. _Could this be it? _

"Oh Lucien, I'm glad you don't do the filing. Let's give it a try." With a trembling hand she picks up the receiver and begins to dial. Four rings and her anticipation begins to wane. It may not be the right number or too early for the restaurant to be open.

She is about to hang up when a gruff bonjour comes on the line. "Is this George McLeod?"

"Aye, who's asking?" The thick scottish accents fills Jean with relief.

"This is Jean Blake, Lucien's wife."

"I remember you lass. What did the bastard go and do?"

George listens to Jean explain what is presumed to have happened to her husband thirteen months ago. She recounts the days before Lucien leaves, the case he was supposedly following. She leaves out no details that may be of importance, including her son's commission at the embassy. The scotsman stays quiet on the other end, his occasional grunts the only outward sign that he remains on the line.

When Jean begins telling of the day's discovery, George finally speak. "And you are sure the box has been there since last year?"

"Yes, I am most definitely sure."

"Who did you say notified you of Lucien's accident?"

"I didn't say. Matthew, the Chief Superintendent of the Ballarat police, he is a very good friend of mine and Lucien. He received the call from Sydney. He informed me in an official capacity along with another friend, Doctor Alice Harvey."

"And you trust these people?"

"Yes, definitely. I would trust them with my life."

"So you never spoke with anyone or met with anyone yourself?"

"No. And since there is no body or evidence of proof of death I was told it is an ongoing interstate investigation. Matthew gets updates from Sydney and Melbourne but there really is not much that has been reported, especially after the first few weeks. "

"Hmm."

"George, please tell me you know something?"

"I wish I did lass. But I can tell you if Lucien left that box for you to find and with what you told me, something is rotten in Denmark."

"That's what I am afraid of."

"Give me some time to do some leg work on my end before you do anything. I will call you in three days at this same time. Is there a secure number to reach you."

Jean gives George the number for the Colonist and Cec's name incase she is detained. "George," there is so much that she wants to ask but unable to put into words. Her weariness permeates the phone lines.

"Jean, you're Lucien's wife so I know you know how to handle yourself. Be smart and stay safe. Tomorrow morning go about your business as usual. Three days." And with that the conversation ends, leaving Jean with more questions than answers.


	3. Chapter 3

It is very late when Jean finally arrives home after sitting in the car by the lake for hours. She stands in the foyer of her home, a place that has woven itself into her very being. Long gone is the farm girl that dreams of more, things out of her reach. She found a place among the townspeople when she moved to the Blake house. Through the years she earned their trust and respect; became one of them.

As a child she would dream of a home with fine wood, rooms a plenty for the big family she wanted. When she moved to this address it wasn't in the way that she had dreamt. She loved the house despite the circumstances but it was just a house for too many years. Lucien helped make it a home. He would argue that she is the one that makes his childhood house a home. In truth, together they make it a home. A home of her dreams full of family, laughter and love.

Her body feels as if it is weighed down with stones, weary beyond thought from the day. She slips off her shoes to make a quiet retreat to her bedroom, where she finds herself collapsing on the bed. The pants that she steps out of left in a pile on the floor. She doesn't believe her mind will let her truly sleep for long but for now she seeks rest. Involuntarily she reaches out, grasping Lucien's pillow as her eyes flutter close.

"Mum? Are you awake?" Jean sits up straight at the sound of a knock along with Ruby's voice as the door slowly opens.

"Yes. I'm awake." Jean rubs her face before glancing at the clock. "That can't be right," pulling the clock closer to her face. "Bloody hell."

Ruby's eyes widen at her mother in laws choice of words. "We are a bit worried about you since you retired so early last night and you never sleep late in the mornings."

"I'm fine. I must have needed sleep that's all." Jean gets out of bed. It isn't until her bare feet hit the ground that she remembers that she slept in just Lucien's shirt. She slips her dressing gown on tying the sash as she picks up her discarded pants. She can feel Ruby's hesitation and questioning glances. "Come in Ruby."

Ruby tentatively walks into the bedroom, eyes darting everywhere taking in the spacious room. Though Amelia spends a lot of time in this room, Ruby has never set foot through the door; her in laws bedroom not a place for her to see. The room seems surreal to her, that Christopher's mother sleeps in such a grand romantic space with its ornate windows, art, fireplace.

Jean seems unaware of Ruby's curious looks until she hears a little gasp. "What is it?"

"The ceiling really does have gold on it. I thought Amelia made that up."

"Yes, it does. Lucien's mother did that with bits of gold leaf from her art. Amelia loves seeing it by the firelight. Says it sparkles." She gives a heavy sigh as Ruby's amazement is replaced by an awkward feeling that she has intruded too far into Jean's private space.

"I'll leave you then. I just wanted to check that you were alright."

"I'm fine. I'll be out shortly ready for the day."

"I was thinking of taking Amelia into town to get some new shoes, and other things for school. Would you like to join us?"

Jean knows that including her in the daily upbringing of Amelia is difficult for Ruby so the sensarity of the invitation touches her. And if Jean is honest with herself, spending time with Amelia will be a welcome distraction to get through the day. Three days of waiting for George to get back to her, three days till she can follow her lead to Adelaide may as well be an eternity.

"I would like that very much. And I promise no red shoes this time." both women laugh.

"You say that but we both know she has you under her spell." Ruby doesn't say these words cruelly but with love and appreciation for all that her mother in law does for them. "I'll go put the kettle on for you."

She makes her way back to the large doors, pausing hearing Jean's voice, barely above a whisper. "Thank you, Ruby."

Jean enters the en-suite , gasping at her own reflection. _This will never do. You need to pull yourself together, Jean Blake._ She begins scrubbing her face, taming her hair, hiding the puffy eyes and fine lines all with a fierceness, a conviction to soldier on. She is Jean Mary Randall Beazley Blake. She does not crumble in a corner at hardship and loss, cower from struggle and pain. With one last swipe of her favorite red lipstick she is able to square her shoulders to face the day.

The following two days pass slowly but not unpleasantly with Amelia's presence distracting Jean. The young child is so intune with her needs barely leaving her side during the day. When Jean's mind starts to drift into unsettling thoughts Amelia is quick to suggest a baking lesson, a book to read anything to occupy their time as if sensing her grandmother's distress.

It is Alice that notes the cleverness of the child. Pointing out to Jean how lucky she is that the child is in the home. Jean find humor in Alice affections towards Amelia. Alice never came across as one to like small children to Jean but then again her granddaughter is not the typical child. When Alice leaves for the evening Jean watches her whisper something in Amelia's ear which is rewarded with a hearty nod.

It is the nights that are long without the child to ease the hours. The exhaustion of the situation, the let down from the shock that pulled her into a deep slumber after speaking to George does not revisit her again. The darkness brings memories, allows the mind to play tricks on her. She questions what she knows and believes. It has her wondering if he has been in the shadows all along. The sheets are twisted from her tossing, the duvet on the floor from the kicking of her legs. The dawn comes before sleep ever does.

The second night she decides that she might try Lucien's method of inducing sleep. Matthew watches her as she carries the decanter of whiskey and a glass down the hall towards the surgery. He turns off the television to follow his friend. Jean hears the tap of the cane following her steps. Matthew will never understand how comforting the familiar sound has become to her.

"May I join you?" Matthew holds out his glass for a refill.

"Of course."

They sit at Lucien's desk in silence sipping their whiskey. There are many questions Matthew wants to ask. There is so much that Jean wants to tell her friend but neither find the words. Instead they take comfort in not being alone, in sharing the space with a loved one. Jean came into the office with a bottle of whiskey with every intention to drink enough to dull her mind so sleep would come. Matthew's quiet steadfast presence gives her clarity that what is needed is not found in the bottle as she would tell her husband.

"It's late Jean. I think I'm going to head to bed. You alright?"

"Yes." she turns off the lamp. "I'm going to head to bed also."

Matthew checks that the front door is locked. They walk down the hall together, turning off the rest of the lights as they go. Jean taking a turn around the kitchen, locking the back door. The rest of the house is in a deep slumber. Matthew stays in the hall till he sees Jean at her bedroom door. They give each other a small knowing smile before entering their rooms.

Jean doesn't venture towards the bed after washing off her makeup and brushing her teeth. She knows sleep won't come, instead she pulls out Lucien's chest of memories from the bottom of his closet. She lights the fire and sit on the floor warming herself by the hearth. Her hands run over the worn leather. She has not opened this, has not pried into this part of Lucien all these months. Now she wonders if there may be a part of him in here that she needs to know to revisit for answers.

Not long after arriving home from their honeymoon Lucien showed her what he kept in it, knowing that once she had been curious of the contents. They laughed at how nosy she had been and how cross he tried to be with her but in truth the feelings of that time had become dull with their shared affections. As Lucien went through the chest, things that were once important he tossed aside, others carried stories he shared with his new bride. He told her of some horrors that he endured, reflected in his drawing. He shared funny stories that had been long forgotten. After months alone they have intimate knowledge of one another, know each other better than themselves but looking at what Lucien saved gave her a glimpse of the man he once was, what his life had been.

The lid seems so heavy in her hands as she lifts it. The first thing she notices laying on the very top is a picture that Amelia drew for him on their last visit together. _Oh Lucien._ She takes out the picture remembering how Amelia sat on his lap explaining the art work to him. The little girl snuggling close to her grandfather, him hanging on every word that their precious girl spoke. The tears rise in her eyes. She swallows them back not allowing them to fall. Not yet, not on the very first thing she sees.

She peels back the layers of the months, years of memories he kept. Many of them are memories she shares with him. She chuckles at some things that he has chosen as keepsakes like a piece of yarn from her favorite soft beige sweater that was beyond repair. She turn crimson as she pulls out the lace panties that she wore on her wedding day long thought missing in the throws of passion. _You devil. _She pulls out a photograph of herself sitting in the garden, lost in thought face towards the sun. _Did he know she was dreaming of him? _

She makes her way towards the bottom of the chest going farther back in time. She is nearing the bottom. She recognizes the sketch books, putting them aside without opening. His metals, so many metals to be buried away. As she lifts the box with them out she catches a glimpse of a piece of white stiff paper wedged in the crack. It is a matchbook. _Why on earth Lucien? _ She turns it over in her hand. Her breath hitches as she reads the words The British Hotel, Port Adelaide. It is from the hotel Lucien stayed in when he followed her to Adelaide subsequently where they stay whenever visiting there. She has seen matchbooks from this establishment many times before tucked in drawers, jacket pockets, places that she has never given a second thought to and now amongst Lucien's most precious memories.

Adelaide, deep in her gut she knows she needs to get there. She knows her Lucien. She knows what Adelaide means to them, to their history. Tomorrow night she will talk to George then she will take herself to the port city that will give her some answers. This she is certain.


	4. Chapter 4

Sausages sizzle in the pan on the stove as Jean starts cracking eggs in a bowl to scramble. A plate of hot scones is in the center of the table alongside a jar of marmalade. The wireless is playing softly in the background. Matthew reads the morning paper, enjoying the normalcy of the Monday morning. Whatever was ailing Jean over the weekend seems to have passed easing his mind.

Amelia comes skipping into the kitchen, Ruby close behind, "Nana, can you do my hair for my first day of school?"

Jean is facing the stove so she does not see the scowl that Ruby gives her daughter but Matthew catches it but thinks better to comment. "Of course, Poppet. After we eat." Satisfied that there is plenty of food for everyone, Jean takes her place at the table. She takes a deep breath steadying her nerves for the deception she must play on her loved ones.

In the early morning hours when the ideas began taking shape she tells herself it is for their own good. The past few days she has not outwardly deceived them. She may have omitted the truth of the circumstances of her behavior but not purposely deceive them. She has told them little white lies when she said she was fine. This is different. This is the beginning of a role she must play. Someone that is outside of her comfort zone. She must enter the world of lies that Lucien is trapped in.

"I'm going away tomorrow for a few days to visit an old friend." she says eyes focusing on the steam rising from the teapot.

Amelia pouts, "You're leaving me?"

"Just for a couple of days." she pushes the unbrushed hair from her granddaughter's eyes. "Besides you'll be in school during the day. I won't be gone more than a night or two, promise."

She can feel Matthew's eyes glaring at her. "What friend? Where?"

Jean knew Matthew wouldn't let her off easily so she is prepared. Keeping her voice light she answers her friend, "Nancy Douglas, well she was Benson back in school. You remember her, don't you?" Jean bites into a scone giving herself time to pause.

"No, can't say as I do."

"You might not. She was a year behind me in school but we were friends. Anyway, she is very ill so I thought I would visit her. You know cheer her up, maybe help a bit. Give her husband a break." Jean takes another bite, feeling as if she is rambling under Matthews hard eyes.

"That sounds very nice, Mum. No need to worry about us here. Stay as long as your friend needs you." Ruby turns to her pouting daughter, "It is nice that Nana helps her friends."

"You didn't say where?" Matthew lips are drawn tightly together.

"Morwell."

"Oh hell, Jean."

"Matthew!" scolding him for the use of such language in front of Amelia.

"That's the otherside of Melbourne. You aren't planning on driving yourself?"

"I most certainly am. I am quite capable of driving the car out of town." her voice raises in defense despite herself.

"It will take you over three hours to get there."

"I am very aware of this Matthew Lawson." She put a lot of consideration in her choice of towns to fictitiously head off to. She needs her destination to be close enough that if she only spends one night in Adelaide it would seem that she spent enough time with her ill friend but not to close that she would return home without staying at least one night.

Matthew has seen the look of determination on Jean's face before. He knows that trying to persuade her to change her mind will be futile. He shakes his head, "don't suppose I'll be able to convince you any differently."

"No. Now you need to go to work soon and so do I. And you my dear need to get ready for school so eat up." She turns her focus towards Amelia, ending any further conversation about her excursion.

Things at Town Hall are relatively quiet much to Jean's relief. She spends the morning looking over a proposal for the historical society and signs a few documents before putting her desk in order. She moves papers around, then back again seemingly pointless but passes the time till she can leave without questioning looks.

"Livy, I'm leaving now. I'll be out of town for a few days. There doesn't seem to be anything to pressing on the schedule but I'll check in, say Thursday."

"Alright Mrs. Blake. Going on holiday?"

"Visiting a friend that is unwell."

Jean makes her way to the hospital to find Alice, hoping that she is in her basement office. The corridor to the morgue is eerily quiet except for the echo of her footsteps. The office is empty but the light is still on. Jean walks towards the desk, spying a half full cuppa, still warm.

Across the hall from the office is the autopsy room, next door to the right the cooler for remains. Jean gives a shudder, not caring for either option but figuring the autopsy room the most likely place to find her friend. She gives a knock, opening the door tentatively when she hears Alice call, "Come in."

"It's just me. Can we…Oh!"

Alice sees her friend blanch at the sight upon the table. "Jean?"

"I'll wait in the office."

"I will just be a minute." Jean is barely settled at Alice's desk, when the pathologist comes in. "I'm sorry you had to see that Jean. I thought you were Peter. I'm expecting him soon to pick up the report on a John Doe that's here."

"It's fine Alice. I should have announced myself better."

The women sit in silence looking at each other. It is the first time they have been alone since the afternoon Alice found Jean in the garden. Jean unsure how much she should involve her friend. Alice unsure how much to pry. Both needing their friendship for comfort. It is Alice who speaks first.

"How are you holding up?"

Jean gives a shrug of her shoulders, "Alright. Not really. Oh, Alice. It is such a mess, isn't it?"

Alice nods in agreement. "Where you able to make your call?"

"Yes, they didn't have any answers for me but I'll be speaking to that person again tonight. Then I'll hopefully know more."

"Right. Then?"

"After? I will be heading to Adelaide. I'm pretty sure I know what that key is for. I've told Matthew and Ruby that I will be in Morwell with a sick friend but I wanted you to know where I really will be incase anything happens."

"Jean you don't think? I mean you will be safe?"

"I'm sure everything will be fine. Lucien wouldn't send me someplace if he thought I would be in danger."

"Yes but Jean that box was buried over a year ago. It may not have been dangerous then but now…" she find it difficult to finish.

"That is why I am telling you where I'll be. This is the hotel I will stay at." She hands Alice a folded piece of paper.

"You really should tell Matthew what is going on. He could help." Alice reiterates her feelings from the first night.

Before Alice can make a case to convince Jean to tell Matthew, the ladies hear heavy footsteps which abruptly end the conversation.

"Dr. Harvey. Oh hello, Mrs. Blake. I don't mean to interrupt."

"Peter, you're not interrupting. Alice and I were just waiting for you so we could leave to have some tea. " She sees Peter looking at the cold cup on the desk. "If I don't take her out of here she will never finish a cup while it's hot."

"The boss wants that report. I hope you found something. He has been in a horrible mood over this one."

"Yes, the chief superintendent doesn't like having unidentified bodies laying around." Alice doesn't notice Jean's unease. "Unfortunately, all that I can ascertain at the moment is that it is a male around 55 to 65, large build. There are some signs of arthritis in the joints. There are also signs of pulmonary distress that could have contributed to his death. Head trauma but not clear if that is the cause of death. Decomposition was too far along for me to rule if that happened before or after post mortem without more testing. I'm running more tests and toxicology as we speak."

"So you are not sure how he died?"

Alice's hands rest on her hips. "Didn't I just say that?" Jean finds herself snickering at the exchange despite the gravity of the situation.

Peter makes a hasty retreat under Alice's watchful glare. "Sometimes I wonder about Constable Crowe."

"He is a good man, very smart, eager. He just wants to do the best he can for Matthew."

"I suppose. Jean, I have to get back to the body. Can we meet in an hour to continue our conversation."

"I don't think so. Amelia will be home from school soon. I want to spend some time with her. Besides there really is nothing more to say anyway. I know what I need to do. Come for dinner if you like."

"Jean, I don't like this."

"I know."

The rest of the evening Jean flits around the house on autopilot getting her home in order. It isn't until Amelia is asleep she excuses herself to her bedroom to pack for her trip having informed the lot that she will be getting a very early start, leaving by dawn. She opens the small suitcase on the bed and begins placing items of clothing, and a few toiletries in it. Jean opens Lucien's bureau, takes out a clean pressed white shirt, folds it carefully and places it the case. _Just incase._

On the bottom shelf of her closet, next to some shoes, Jean takes out her largest handbag. She switches the contents of her smaller daily bag, adding a notebook, the letter, the key and a photo of Lucien, his smile reaching his sparkling blue eyes. With a heavy sigh, she turns back to Lucien's bureau, reaching up to the top shelf taking down a lock box.

At her vanity Jean unlocks the secure box, revealing several hand guns. The cold menacing metal before her, she trembles, hating the power that they hold. She picks up Christopher's that lays amongst Lucien's the irony not lost on her. Too big and heavy for her purposes, she places it back next to Lucien's.

No, the one she is looking for is the small hand pistol Lucien bought for her shortly after returning from their honeymoon. She did not want it but Lucien insisted. He wanted her to have protection when she was not with him since she was now his wife she could be a possible target. Thinking back on how irate she was she is now thankful she agreed. _Alright Lucien, but only when it is a dangerous case and there is reason to carry it. _

Jean loads the gun, remembering the feel of Lucien's hands over hers as he showed her how to handle it safely. She says a silent prayer that she doesn't have to use it. Secure in an inner pocket of her purse easily accessible if needed, Jean zips up her purse and closes the suitcase. Speaking to the photo alongside her bed, says aloud with confidence that she doesn't necessarily feel, "Let's do this."

She opens the bedroom door slightly. She can hear the television still playing loudly. She peeks around the door seeing Matthew and Peter are both still watching. Easing herself through the threshold, she closes the door behind her, freezing in place at the click of the door closing.

Jean makes her way down the hall, neither man turning from their trance of the television. Placing her hand on the knob of the heavy door she holds her breath as she opens and closes the door. Standing on the front porch, she breathes out deeply before taking in the cold night air. She fills her lung several times before taking the few paces from the porch to the car.

Once in the car heading to the Colonist there is no turning back. The next move in this dangerous game will be played. If Matthew hears the car door or engine she will not know. If he gets a call out in the middle of the night and finds the car missing she will not know. How the night, the next few days go at 7 Mycroft will elude her until her return. Right now, stepping off the porch of her home she can not worry about the what ifs. Her friends, her family are safe at the moment. She will do her best to keep it that way.


	5. Chapter 5

Jean parks in the same dark alleyway at the side of the Colonist Club. Unlike the other night, Cec Drury is expecting her. He answers the door on the first knock. Jean notices that tonight there are no workers remaining in the kitchen, tidying up from the day.

"Good evening Ma'am."

"Cec, please don't start with formalities with me. Unless..." Jean looks around the kitchen to see if she missed someone that may be observing them.

"We are alone. The night shift is busy elsewhere. I'll take you upstairs."

"Thank you." Jean follows the Blake family's faithful loyal friend up the back staircase to the same office that she sat in just three nights ago.

"Sherry?"

"No better not."

"Tea then." He doesn't give her a chance to answer, making his leave.

Jean sits in the quiet, playing with the locket around her neck without thinking. Her hand often touches the locket for comfort since putting it on all those weeks ago with Amelia. She takes note of the small sparse backroom office. For all of Cec's years of service at the Colonist Club this is the place that he has been given. She supposes that Cec is grateful for this, given the honor to be considered more than a meer bartender at this establishment. Of course she knows the extent of what someone like Cec does for a place like this. The person that runs most everything but blends unseen by many of the patrons. He is the person that is entrusted with many secrets of Ballarat's most prestigious men and soon to be women.

It is while she is thinking of the sweet hard working man, that he returns with a steaming cuppa. He places it in front of her as the phone rings. Jean's muscles turn rigid as she inhales deeply. Cec calmly takes the lead by answering the phone very professionally.

"One moment sir." Cec hands the phone to Jean and takes his leave.

"Hello," Jean tries to keep her voice steady despite the tremble that she feels in her body.

"Hello lass. I have some news." George gets straight to the point.

"Yes?"

"About a year ago Lucien was spotted in Penang. He was followed into Thailand. Where he was lost track of near Bangkok. This person sent intel back to Paris that one Thomas Etienne was back in the field."

Jean got an uneasy feeling at George's pause. "And?"

"The person that received the intel was Gabriel Aries. Do you know who that is?"

Jean's throat constricts and her heart feels as if it stopped. "No, but I can venture a guess. Would he be a cafe owner in Paris?"

"Yes, that is him."

"I knew he was more than a cafe owner?"

"I gather Lucien didn't tell you?"

Jean is shaking her head trying to put the pieces together. "He said it was nothing for me to worry about. He wouldn't tell me but I knew there was more to the man by the way Lucien reacted to him. George, he knows Lucien's real identity." Panic begins to rise in her.

"Yes, well he reported Thomas Etienne is also known as Lucien Blake. Of course he didn't know what identity was real if either. It didn't get far on our end or I would have heard something prior to digging around for information. What is most troubling though is the person that spotted Lucien seemed to think that someone else was following him."

"Is that it?" Her voice rises in frustration.

"Sorry Jean. That is all I found out. I'll keep digging."

"Yes, of course. What about this Gabriel? Is he going to be a problem?"

"Don't worry about him."

"That is what Lucien said about the man to me and yet he is willing to blow my husband's cover."

"Jean. Gabriel Aries is of no concern any longer. He is dead. Found murdered about six months ago."

"Oh. I see." At least she thought she did. Once again Jean gets a feeling that there is more to this .

"This other person that was following Lucien, did they say anything about him?"

"Said it was a white man, tall, dark hair."

"Well that really doesn't help."

"Considering he was in Southeast Asia, it says something."

The nauseating feeling washes over her. Could it be one of our own after him? Maybe protecting him? She thinks of Derek Alderton and Sullivan but they are dead and were acting on their own accord. Or were they? So many ideas are swarming in her head, none making sense but all plausible knowing Lucien.

"Jean, Jean!" George's voice yelling over the lines brings her out of her thoughts.

"I'm here."

"You need to be careful with whatever you are planning next."

She is about to deny that she is going to do anything but doesn't want to say one more lie tonight. "I will."

"Check in."

"Yes, when I can. Thank you George." She hangs up the phone. She takes a sip of tea not even noticing that it is long cooled. With one more deep breath, Jean squares her shoulders raising her head high to face what comes next.

Jean enters the kitchen to leave by the same side door she entered an hour before. Cec is waiting for her with a gentle smile. He hands her a basket covered with a cloth. Jean peers in to see a couple sandwiches, fruit, biscuits and a thermos.

"For the road." He says with confidence, assuming she is not planning to head home on her departure from the Colonist.

She nods, admiring Cec's ability to read a situation without being told. She leaves him with a kiss on the cheek and whispers a thank you in his ear.

The car rumbles along the dark streets, town after town well into the night. Jean pulls off the road at an all night petrol station just before Horsham to fill up the car. She gets a strange look from the young attendant earning himself a glare from her which has him averting his eyes to the task at hand. She gets out of the car to stretch her legs while it is getting fueled up, taking her purse with the gun in it for safety.

The young worker is no more than a boy, far younger than her own sons, and is seemingly alone. "You work these night by yourself?"

"Yes, ma'am. My uncle owns the place. Pays me extra to do the night shift."

''Do you get a lot of business in the middle of the night?" Jean is curious having not come across many other cars on her journey thus far.

"You'd be surprised. Don't usually see many like you though."

"What is like me?"

"Woman on their own ma'am."

Jean nods in agreement. She reaches in her purse, taking out the picture of Lucien. "You wouldn't happen to have seen this man passing through?"

"No ma'am. Sorry."

"No, I didn't really think you would have."

She pays then reaches across the seat to the basket, pulling out a sandwich handing it to the young man with a warm smile. "Here, eat." Before she pulls back on the road she eats one herself, not even realizing her own hunger until she finishes it.

As she drives in the quiet still of darkness a sort of calm comes over her as the miles pass. She understands that there is much that is out of her control, things that she can not change. She needs to keep looking forward to understand the past, to look at what she knows not at the things that she doesn't. Somewhere along the road to Adelaide she makes peace with the fact that it may all be for nothing, that she may be too late or that this is all so much bigger than Lucien ever anticipated; to big for her. She needs to keep faith in God, in Lucien and in herself to get through this.

Jean pulls the car over to the side of the road near the Murray Bridge to watch the sunrise. She stands in the clear cold morning air, facing the east. She closes her eyes, saying a silent prayer for strength, for safety, for clarity. When she opens her eyes the sky is illuminated with pinks, purples, the orange glow of the sun. Watching the beauty of the morning come alive she can almost feel Lucien's arms wrapped around her as if they were watching it together once again. A single tear betrays her strength as she speaks to the new day. "I love you too."


	6. Chapter 6

It is too early for the bank to be open so Jean decides to wait across the street in the cafe. There are a few patrons, business men without wives or housekeepers getting their morning breakfast to go, a mother stopping for a quiet cuppa after dropping children off at school, all seemingly normal. Jean sits at a table by the front window, the same table her and Lucien always sit at. Lucien likes the view of the street, likes watching the people go by. She can't help but think now if this need to see everything going on comes from those days in the Secret Intelligence.

"What can I get for you, deary?" The waitress seems to have more years on her than her true age.

Jean barely looks from the window when answering, "Just a cup of tea." The waitress starts to turn away, when it occurs to Jean that the waitress is familiar, recognizing the older woman from past visits to the establishment and when she reads the name tag, Aggie, she clearly remembers her as a long time employee of the cafe. "Excuse me." Taking the photo from her purse, "You wouldn't happen to have seen this man recently or even the past few months?"

Aggie takes the photo, a big smile comes across her face. "Well sure. He comes in every now and then. I must say he isn't looking as well kept as is in this photo, older too. A bit of a lost soul I would say, seems very sad." She hands the photo back to Jean.

"When did he start coming around?" If the waitress notices the quiver in Jean's voice she doesn't acknowledge it.

"It was just after the New Year that I first recall seeing him. We were all pretty festive and well like I said he seemed sad."

"When did you see him last?"

"Maybe a week or so. He comes in around this time of day. Matter a fact he sits at this very table."

It is taking every ounce of willpower for Jean to keep calm. She finally has confirmation that Lucien is on Australian soil, and has been for at least the last 5 months. Confirmation that he is still alive but for some reason unable to make his way home to her. If Lucien keeps returning here, she knows more than ever that she is on the right path to help him come home her.

While Jean is consuming this new information, Aggie returns with the tea, "You look like you could use this." She places a plate with a hot scone in front of Jean, "he always orders one of these. Says no one can make them as good as his wife but ours comes close. Let me know what you think." An old worn hand rests gently on Jean's shoulder giving a slight squeeze before heading to another table.

Jean keeps checking the time, when it is a few minutes before the top of the hour she makes her way to the counter to pay. "How much?"

Aggie offers another warm smile, "It's on the house."

"No, I can pay."

"I remember you two. I never forget a friendly face. Didn't put it together who he was until I saw that picture and you, wearing the same sad look. I hope you find him." Aggie leans over the counter to speak softly so that only Jean can here. "When I see him again I'll tell him you are looking for him and that he should get his sorry arse home."

Jean returns the sentiment with chuckle, "Thank you. May I use..."

Aggie cuts her off pointing to the back, "near the kitchen."

Jean fixes her hair and makeup in the mirror. She tries her best to not look as if she has been awake for days, driving all night. She runs her hand along her skirt, smoothing the wrinkles to no avail. She checks her purse again that the key is inside. _Alright, you've made it this far._

The bank has several people working, tending to various tasks finishing up getting ready for the day. A few people are waiting in line for the tellers to open their windows. Jean decides to try her luck with an older gentleman sitting behind a desk in a side office. She taps on the open office door.

"Yes,come in. Have a seat. How can I help you?"

"I need to access a safety deposit box. I have the key." Which she hold up, praying that she is correct.

"That is fine that you have the key but your name needs to be on the account. Is it?" He gives a demeaning look which makes Jean bristle.

"Yes, of course. It is Jean Blake." She says with too much confidence.

The man gets up to retrieve a large book and looks up the name. "Here it is, joint account. Number twenty five."

"What is the other name on the account?"

"You don't know?"

"Well I do, I mean it is one of two people. I'm just not positive who opened it."

The banker become skeptical of Jean's intentions. It is not often that someone asks to see a safety deposit box, has a key and not know that name. "I'm going to need to see some identification."

"Yes." Jean hands over her license then states. "Thomas Etienne. That is the other name."

"Yes it is." The banker deflates a bit by Jean's correct answer, especially given the uniqueness of the name. "I just need you to sign here ma'am." Jean looks at the ledger giving out a small gasp as she sees the very familiar handwriting of her husband's. She takes note of the date of the last entry as her own looping signature is recorded. Only eight days prior he was right here.

"I'll show you to the vault Mrs. Blake. Would you like a private room?"

Jean nods, trying to steady her breathing. Another step closer, to what she hasn't figured out yet. She has found Lucien or at least is on the right path to find him. Even if she keeps missing him she knows that by her signing her name in the ledger that eventually he will know that she is making her way to him. She just needs to keep following the trail that he is leaving for her.

The private room feels as if the walls are closing in on her as Jean sits at the table, the safety deposit box in front of her. There is nothing special about this box, nothing that scream this is going to change everything. She stares at it for a long time, almost afraid to open it. What if it is not like Pandora's Box? What if hope is not inside?

The key fits perfectly in the lock, with one small turn it is done, the lock pops open. She lifts the lid open wide to see the contents fully. Her hand covers her mouth holding in the cry that will break the stillness. There on top of many papers if Lucien's watch and wallet. Jean takes each out runny her finger across these pieces of her husband.

She flips open the wallet, noticing that it isn't laying flat. Tucked safely inside ifs Lucien's wedding band. She take it out, this symbol of their unity. It pains her that it is not on her loves finger where it belongs but her heart also swells that this is among the few items stored for safekeeping, waiting for him or her to claim it. The goldband slips loosely on her finger next to her own rings. She reaches behind her neck to unclasp the gold chain. The ring makes a soft clinking sound as it falls in place next to the locket. Once secure back around her neck, Jean places the precious items beneath her blouse where they rest close to her heart.

She puts Lucien's wallet and watch in her purse then moves on to the stack of papers. At first glance it seems like a jumble of envelopes and newspaper articles. Looking closer Jean notices that the envelopes are numbered. The other papers are copies of all the articles pertaining to his disappearance. As she sifts through the articles she notices some that pertain to her. There are articles about her election and win for town council. The article regarding the Begonia Festival with a photo of her and Amelia. _Oh Lucien, what must you think of me?_

Jean open the first envelope, dated 25 March,1963 on stationary from the British Hotel. "Our anniversary, he wrote this when we were here before...He knew he was leaving even then." She speaks to herself as more pieces fall into place. She continues to read.

_My Dearest Jean, _

_If you are reading this things have gone terribly wrong and I have not made it home to retrieve the box from your beloved garden. I can only assume you believe to be a widow once again. In fact by now you may indeed be one. Please know that I will do everything in my power to make sure that doesn't happen. I promised you I was done with this life and I wanted to uphold that promise, all of the promises I have made to you. But more important than keeping a promise to you is my need to keep you and our families safe. The pressures and threats from Canberra have forced me into action one last time._

Jean put the letter down, unable to continue, the words blurred by her tears. She begins placing everything in her purse, not wanting to read anymore of Lucien's personal words to her in this small cold room.

Among the envelopes and papers there is a bank book. The account is in her and Lucien's name. Jean has done the books for the Blake household for many years and this is one account she is not familiar with. This must be Lucien's account that he kept with his monies from his military services. The very account that allowed him to spoil her across Europe.

Flipping to the first page she sees the first entry date, September 15, 1960. Her eyes widen at the amount of the opening deposit, "Good heavens. No wonder you told me not to worry about the cost of our trip."

She continued to flip through the pages. She can see the withdrawals for their trip and the regular monthly deposits, which ended the month after he disappeared. Then the withdrawals start in January. Every few weeks he takes a considerable amount of money out of the account. "You are going to be out of money soon at this rate."

She writes down the account number, than place the book back in the box along with a note that simple states. _I know you are doing your best. I'm with you now. Love~J._

Jean holds her purse close cradling the important contents. Before leaving the bank she writes out a large check to be deposited in the account for Lucien, praying it will be enough to help him come home. She blinks in the bright sun as she steps out of the bank. She weaves through the people on the sidewalk with a sense of purpose. The car is only a few feet away. Retrieving her suitcase she heads to the hotel to get a room for the night, to find more answers. A room so she can sit alone in the quiet, read through every word her husband has written to her. A place to piece together the clues that she has, to help him get home to her.


	7. Chapter 7

Jean enters the hotel, relief fills her that the lobby is empty of guests. She makes her way to the front desk with the sole purpose to get a room to sort out all that she has discovered. A pretty young woman is behind the desk wearing a sparkling smile and a name tag that reads Melody.

"How may I help you?" the very cheery voice pierces the quiet of the lobby.

"I would like room, please."

"Our check in time isn't until 1:00 but are welcome to wait." Jean looks at her watch, letting out a heavy sigh at the prospect of waiting a couple hours. "Or I can see if I have anything available now. There will be an early check in fee."

"That is fine. Thank you." Jean plays with the matchbooks that are in a bowl on the counter while waiting.

"Here! I have a lovely room available." Jean looks up at the perky receptionist. She can't help but think that everyone seems so young anymore. "It is a double room on the third floor. Is that alright?"

"That will be perfect."

"Wonderful. And what name will it be under?"

"Blake. Jean Blake." Jean watches as the bright smile fades before her as the young woman begins to fumble.

"One moment please, Mrs. Blake." Melody makes a hasty retreat to an office behind the front desk.

With everything that is occurring, Jean starts to scan her surroundings, ready to flee if the need arises. "I can't believe she's real!" the piercing voice of the young woman reaches her through the quiet. Jean tries to make out the rest of the conversation when suddenly an older man comes out of the office.

"Mrs. Blake, I am very sorry for the confusion. I am Mr. Bernard, hotel manager. I have your key for you. I just need,"

Jean interrupts, "to see some identification?"

Mr. Bernard gives Jean an apologetic look as Jean hands her license over to him. "Thank you, Mrs. Blake."

"How? What room?" Jean can feel the beat of her heart in her ears as so many questions arise. She takes a deep breath pulling out the picture of Lucien. "Is this the man that has reserved the room for me?"

"Yes or maybe an older brother. He pays ahead so that room is always booked for you and him."

Jean nods as it becomes clearer where Lucien's money is going to quickley. "Is he here?" Her throat constricting as the words come out.

"I can't say for sure. He comes and goes with little notice. He won't let anyone clean the room and rarely gets room service."

"But you do see him?"

"Yes, usually when he pays. We were told that you were to have access to the room and only you. He doesn't seem like a man to cross so we agreed, informing all the front desk employees of your name. To be honest we thought you were just someone he made up. But that is not our concern and he always pays."

Jean's brain is sifting and filing all the information quickly, pieces coming together as Mr. Bernard speaks. The man gives Jean the room key as he asks if she needs help. "No, I know the way. Room 38?" Jean assumes Lucien took residence in the room that they always stay in, the room he first declared his love for her.

"No ma'am. Room 25."

"Of course. I'll see to it myself, thank you." Jean's heart is beating so hard she is sure that the hotel manager must hear it. She wants to run up the stairs to see if Lucien is waiting for her, decorum and not wanting to draw any more attention to herself the only things stopping her.

The door before her is unassuming, just an ordinary wooden door yet it holds so much of her future behind it. The desire to get here quickly is surpassed by a fear of what is waiting inside or more precisely who may or may not be. To thwart the pain of disappointment, Jean knocks on the door hoping that if Lucien is inside he will speak even if it's to chide the person knocking.

There is no sound from the other side. Jean turn the key in the lock, entering the small room. Immediately she is overcome with the smell that makes up the sum of her husband. The room has clearly not been cleaned in months, though she smiles that the bed is made. There is a wireless and a half full bottle of whiskey on the dresser, empties in the dustbin, though she supposes not as many as there could be. _Oh my darling. This can't be what you want me to see._

The exhaustion of the last few days come heavily onto her. The lack of sleep is taking its toll. She needs to think, go through all the letters, through this room but she needs sleep inorder to get anything done, she needs a rested mind. She sits on the single bed thinking this is the closest she has been to her husband in over a year. Slowly she peels off the layers of her clothing till she stands wearing only her slip. Pulling back the covers, she gets in the bed allowing herself the luxury of dreaming of Lucien beside her as she drifts off to sleep with his scent around her.

Matthew and Peter pull up to the house, the familiar delivery truck in the driveway ahead of them. An old, small grey haired man is lifting a box out of the back. Peter makes his way to him.

"Mr. Camisa, let me help you with that." Peter takes the box of groceries, "ooof, this is heavy."

"I'm used to it. Helps keep me young."

Matthew joins them after stifly getting out of the patrol car. "We've got this from here."

"I usually help Mrs. Blake put things away. And I'll need to go over the Friday delivery for the orphanage."

Matthew grumbles, "Mrs. Blake is away. I'm sure whatever you normally do will be fine."

"She's away?"

"Yes, left early this morning to visit a friend." Matthew's voice has a warning tone as he glares at the grocer. Matthew has little use for the man, a newcomer to the town, setting up shop in recent years, taking business, with his better prices, from the locals but more so since Lucien's disappearance has his tolerance of the man wane. Mr. Camisa has been making himself very present and familiar around Jean, though she is oblivious to the attention. Peter feels uneasy at his boss's open display of disdain for the man.

"Alright then. I'll catch up with her next week."

Peter carries the heavy box into the kitchen. Placing it on the kitchen table, not a trace of his usual smile present. Matthew is close behind muttering under his breath when he sees Peter's expression. "What's eating you?"

"You said left this morning?"

"Yeah, what of it?"

"Her car was gone last night when I went to bed. I thought I heard something outside and looked out. Her car was gone, Boss."

"Bloody hell! And your only telling me this now." Matthew's rage has the window rattling.

"I didn't know. Besides I'm me and well, she's Mrs. Blake."

"Christ. What is that damn woman up to?"

"I thought you said she is visiting a friend. Maybe she just left early."

"Sometime Constable Crowe…" Matthew wants to berate the young man for his naivety but decides it really is not his fault that he doesn't know the trouble that the Blakes can get into. "Maybe, let's hope." He limps over the phone visible fuming.

He picks up the phone, dialing a familiar number. "Dr. Harvey, I need to speak with you about Jean." Matthew's scowl deepens. "What do you mean I'll have to come to the morgue to talk?" Confusion soon replaces the scowl after Alice hangs up with no further explanation. Matthew turns to Peter. "Get this food away, then you're taking me to the hospital."

His tongue is trailing along her neck, the familiar tickle of his beard brings a smile to her. A callus hand rubs the inside of her leg, sliding the slip higher, until he meets the tender skin of her inner thigh, pulling aside her panties. His other hand is entwined in her loose curls, bringing her head closer to him as his lips devour hers. She cries out his name as a rush of passion takes hold.

Jean's eyes spring open, her skin flush, her breathing heavy as she reaches out for him but he is not there. It felt so real that her skin still tingles from the phantom touch of his hands, mouth, body. She has had dreams like this before but not for sometime. She slows her breathing the reality of her situation becoming clearer as the sleepy haze dissipates.

She pulls out the pile of letters and paper from her purse, finding the letter she began reading at the bank. This time when she sees the words on the paper she is prepared for what she will read.

_My Dearest Jean, _ _25 March, 1963_

_If you are reading this things have gone terribly wrong and I have not made it home to retrieve the box from your beloved garden. I can only assume you believe to be a widow once again. In fact by now you may indeed be one. Please know that I will do everything in my power to make sure that doesn't happen. I promised you I was done with this life and I wanted to uphold that promise, all of the promises I have made to you. But more important than keeping a promise to you is my need to keep you and our families safe. The pressures and threats from Canberra have forced me into action one last time. _

_They are sending me into China to meet with contacts to gather intel on communist activity in regards to the situation in Vietnam. Apparently my knowledge of the language and connections with China is now an asset. I have been told that I should be gone no more than a month. _

_I have been promised and a written contract has been drafted that this will be the last commission that will be asked of me. They have assured me that Christopher will get a promotion, which I saw the papers being signed and that he will be kept out of Vietnam. The situation in that country is getting worse by the day. If everything goes as planned and I'm home in a month I will gladly take your wrath for putting you through all of this. I will deserve every bit of your anger but everything I do is because I love you. _

_Jean, my love, if this mission does go wrong. If something happens to me I don't know what you will be told. I know it won't be the truth that is why I'm hiding the box leading you to this safety deposit box. Truly trust only our dearest. You deserve the best, you deserve better than me but for some reason you chose me for which I am eternally grateful for, so I will do my best for you every step that I am away from you._

_All my love always,_

_Your Lucien_

"Oh Lucien, it did go terribly wrong and Christopher is in Vietnam. I don't even know if you ever made it to China." Jean rubs her hands through her hair as she tosses the letter aside, Using what she has found out from George and Lucien's own words she can ascertain that he has been betrayed by his country, by someone that he trusted. She is angry at the lies that Lucien was told, for the lies that she was told.

Jean finds the next envelope, the number two clearly written in the right corner. Maybe there are some answers enclosed in this one, answers to where he has been for so long, answers to what is happening to them. She takes the paper out, unfolding it. The first thing that she notices is that his handwriting, clearly still Lucien's but it lacks his flourish, the strong strokes of the pen. This is the handwriting of someone tired.

_My Darling Jean,_ _3 January, 1964_

_I have been traveling so very long. I arrived in Perth via a cargo ship nearly three weeks ago. I made my way here to Adelaide to find that you have not been here. You would have taken my wallet that holds my most precious item. I'm wearing it as I write this to you, taking comfort in the feel of it on my finger. You would have left a trace of yourself for me to find. As much as it hurts not to have a part of you I am grateful that there is still a chance for you to come, that you will find the clues in the garden._

_There is so much to tell you, so much that went wrong. I was being followed from the moment I landed in Singapore._

"Singapore! Oh no, Lucien."

_I made my way up the Malay Peninsula to meet a contact in Penang that never showed. There were no contacts to rendezvous with once I made my way into Thailand either. I was able to lose the person who was following me in Bangkok. Jean, I was wandering around trying to reach out to anyone I might still know in the region. So much has changed. A white man, with a foriegn accent is nothing but a threat or a mark. _

_I tried to reach out to the Australian consulate in Saigon, to contact the army. I explained I was there on official business. I was told that there are no records of Major Lucien Blake being in Vietnam or anywhere in Asia. I knew then that I was on my own and that I was deposited in this area of unrest to truly disappear. I am certain that whoever was following me would have killed me if given the chance. So much happened that I am too weary to relive now but I made it to Australian soil, closer to you._

_What is most worrisome now is that whomever is behind this still wants me gone, which puts you in danger. I want to come home more than anything. I want to hold you and beg for forgiveness. I love you so much and miss you but until I can make sense of what is going on, till I can make a plan I need to stay away to keep you safe. I have money in an account. I'll keep a room for as long as I'm able and maybe one day you will tire of the rock in the garden and come to me._

_Yours, Lucien_

The paper is shaking in Jean's hands, her whole body trembling at what Lucien must have gone through, what he is still going through. She feels a wave of nausea come over her. She leaps out of the bed running into the bathroom where she leans over the sink. If her stomach were full she might vomit but the morning's scone is long digested.

She makes her way back to the small room, pausing at the dresser to pour a glass of whiskey for herself. She takes a long sip, grimacing as the cheap liquor burns down her throat. As she stands by the dresser she begins opening the drawers to see what traces of her husband she can find. There is nothing but several pads of hotel stationary, a few pens and a Bible. Jean turns on the wireless, smiling when a slow jazz song fills the room. Just like Lucien to leave no trace of himself but for whiskey and music.

She refills her glass and sits back on the bed to read through the letters written to her. The fifteenth of January, he writes about her successful election; _I am so proud of you Jeannie. I knew you could do it. Wish I was there for you. _The third of February, he thinks there is a spy in Ballarat watching her. _I know Matthew will keep you safe._

The letters are dated about every two weeks. There are times when he seems to ramble incoherently. Drunk perhaps? Others times when he is sentimental reminiscing of their life together; each letter desperate for a way home. Jean can match some of the dates to what was happening in Ballarat to the tone in the letters.

In April the letters become more concise, more determined. A plan seems to be formulating but he isn't clear. There are endless words declaring his love and devotion to her but she looks over them quickly sifting through for some clue of what to do, of what the plan may be.

The last letter, she opens it frantically. It is dated the 4th of May. She reads through much of the same but the tone of this one is much darker. Then she reads, _I keep dreaming of home but maybe it would be better if I were dead. _Jean gasp, "No! Oh please, Lucien, don't think that. I'm here now. We can solve this together."


	8. Chapter 8

The sun is low in the sky when Jean's stomach's rumbling brings her back to the here and now. The hours pass in a fog going over the papers that Lucien left for her. She gathers the letters, placing them near the whiskey bottle. She calls down to the main desk to order some food. The voice on the other end clearly in shock when Jean gives the room number for the order to be delivered to.

Deciding there is plenty of time for a hot shower before her food arrives, Jean gathers her things from her suitcase and makes her way to the bathroom. The hot water washes away the jumble of thoughts along with the dust and grime of the day. There is so much to put together, so much to decipher to know the next steps. She keeps going over Lucien's words, feeling as if she is missing something.

Jean steps out of the shower grabbing a towel, steam lingering in the bathroom. She can't help but think if the towel that she is wrapping around herself is the same one that dried off Lucien's body the week before. She turns to look in the mirror when she sees something written in the condensation. "What on Earth?" Jean takes a step closer, eyes squinting as she reads, _John 11:25-26._

Her eyes widen, as this new piece of the puzzle clicks. She is very familiar with that verse, never missing an Easter mass before marrying Lucien. She quickly goes to the pile of letters, flipping through the papers with one hand as the other holds the towel around her. The letter dated from last week is before her, she reads the line that earlier put fear in her, now looking at it in a different light. _I keep dreaming of home but maybe it would be better if I were dead._

If Lucien were to be standing next to her at this moment, he would be grinning watching the look on his wife's face as her mind puts things together. He would tell her how clever she is, more clever than him. She has a whole new perspective, a new clarity to look over everything once again.

She opens the drawer housing the Bible when a knock on the door startles her. "One moment," she calls out, hastily grabbing her dressing gown to cover her still damp body. She opens the door slowly to a young porter with her tray of food.

"Would you like me to bring this in for you?" The porter strains to get a glimpse of the now mysterious room 25.

Jean, suspecting the porter's intention, takes the tray. "I've got this. Thank you." The porter remains still, waiting for a tip. "Oh, just a moment."

When she closes the door on the young man, Jean makes sure the lock is secure. The enormity of what this small room holds for her future with Lucien is overwhelming with the revelation of the clue on the bathroom mirror. She has a strong sense to protect everything that is in the room. With a sandwich and the Bible in hand Jean makes her way over to the small table in the corner. Unable to bring herself to open the book, Jean lays her hand on the cover thinking of a conversation she had with Lucien in a quaint chalet in the Alps.

She can feel his scowl and almost hear his eyes roll from across the room. While he was out collecting some dinner she found the Bible in the bedside table drawer. She can't help but take comfort in the familiar words. Now she doesn't want to divert her eyes to see his face, the look of rejection; that he isn't enough for her.

He finally asks the question that has been on his mind whenever she dare read the Bible in front of him on their honeymoon trip. "Why do you still read it? You know it is just stories?"

She doesn't want to argue with her new husband in this beautiful place but she can't help but feel as if his words are degrading. "Yes, Lucien. I know they are just stories. And I read them because I happen to like these stories."

"Of course, forgive me Jean. I just thought with everything with the church." He finds his place next to her, pulling her close.

Her prickly demeanor melts by his touch, knowing he doesn't mean to sound condescending no more than she is actually angry with him. "I am angry at the archaic rules of the church, angry that the church can say that we are doomed to hell for loving each other." She pauses to compose herself, hating the feelings that rises in her when she thinks of her former church. "I left the Catholic Church not my faith in God. I know you don't necessarily believe Lucien but I do. Reading these words means something to me."

"I know they do and I am ever so sorry. Forgive me?" He kisses her temple.

"Depends on what you brought back for dinner." Lucien let's out a hardy laugh, the heaviness of the moment passes. The book set aside to enjoy an evening with her husband.

This small hotel room in Adelaide is a stark contrast from the romantic chalet of her memory. The dry sandwich is sustenance but that is the only thing good about it. She stares at the Bible hoping some great epiphany will occur, instead she starts counting the crumbs that fall on the cover. It has been a year since she has read any words from the Bible, a year of ignoring the stories she once loved. _Is it anger that kept me away from it? _

When she thinks about it, her life with Lucien gave her few opportunities to sit and read the words that used to give her comfort drifting to sleep before being wed. "Oh, for heaven's sake," her stalling now becoming her own annoyance.

Jean picks up the book, holds it by the binding and does the first gentle fanning of the pages to see if anything falls out. When nothing lands on the table before her Jean proceeds to flipping through the pages to see if anything stands out. Sure enough, she gets a glimpse of an underlined passage, then another, and another as she goes through.

She gets a pen and her notebook and sits back down at the table. Beginning again she starts to record the verses that she finds marked in blue ink; _Mark 16:6, Luke 24:6-7. _She has a list of many verses on the page, all pertaining to resurrection. When she comes across _Matthew 28:5-6 _it is enclosed in a circle indicating its importance. "I won't be afraid, Lucien."

Hours she spends going through the pages, looking for any clues between the covers. The thin paper of the pages is like an old friend. Of course, Lucien would use a book that he has little use for to deliver the messages to her.

It is late when Jean curls up under the covers continuing to read through Lucien's marking. She finds herself laughing out loud at some of Lucien's comments in the margin. Jean's eyes are heavy, she is about to close the book when she sees some red markings. _I Peter 4:8 Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins._

The book lands with a thump that jolts Jean from her thoughts. What sins has Lucien committed? She thinks of the sins she is willing to commit to bring him home. She wants to pray for Lucien, for herself but in the dim lamp light the only thing that comes to her mind is _thank God I don't take confession any longer. _

The finest beam of light from the street lamp makes its way through the drawn curtain, Jean focuses on it as she lies in bed. Her mind is swirling with the day's information. So much has occurred in such a short amount of time. This afternoon going through the letters, she had a fleeting thought of just staying in this room till Lucien walked through the door. Of course she knows that is impossible. Her family, waiting in Ballarat, would worry if she is a day longer than she is supposed to be gone let alone days, weeks even.

But as the night reveals more information she knows what she must do to bring him home. Figuring how to go about it proves to be difficult. The idea that comes to her in the darkness is ludacris or is it. Slowly a plan starts coming into place but she will need help. She turns over in the bed to face the side where Lucien should be. Speaking to the void as if he is there, "I'm going to need Matthew and Alice's help for this. I really don't want to get them involved but I don't know any other way." Once again wrapped in his scent and her mind calmer in the knowledge she has a course of action she drifts to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Alice stumbles out of bed to answer the ringing phone. "Hello Matthew."

Jean smirks into the phone, "Alice, it's Jean. Sorry I'm calling so early."

"Jean! Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes I am. I'm sorry I didn't phone yesterday. I got preoccupied."

"That's alright. Are you with your friend?" Alice asks tentatively.

Jean looks around the empty room. "No, no I'm alone."

"Matthew is very upset with you. Seems he found out you didn't leave in the morning."

"Oh? What did you tell him?"

"That you are a grown woman and that he is not your keeper."

"You didn't?"

"I did. Now he's angry with both of us."

"He'll get over it. He always does."

"So? Your trip?"

"I'm heading home today. I should arrive around dinner time. Let's meet for lunch tomorrow, say one o'clock near the lake."

"Alright. Is that it?"

"For now yes. I just didn't want you to worry. See you tomorrow."

Jean readies herself for the day surprised at how rested she actually feels. While standing in front of the bathroom mirror she gets an idea. She finishes putting on her makeup, turns the hot water on in the shower then closes the door behind her. When the bathroom is full of enough steam to see Lucien's message once again Jean takes a finger to write her own message. _I understand _adding a heart underneath for him. She pulls her wet fingertip away from the glass, turns on her heels for the door.

Before packing her few items back in her bag, Jean takes the neatly folded white shirt out. She has no idea if it will fit him anymore or if he needs it but she always has a clean shirt ready for him and she always will. Opening the drawer that houses the Bible, she places the simple item, which conveys so much of her love for him inside with the hope that Lucien will put it on and be encircled in a piece of home.

The young Melody is not at the front desk this morning when Jean approaches. The new face greeting her has the same sort of bright smile. Jean can't help but think it must be a prerequisite. "Checking out madam?"

"No, not exactly but I would like to return my room key for safe keeping," placing the key on the desk.

"Oh! Number 25, yes of course Mrs. Blake. Shall I call in Mr. Bernard?" Once again the bright smile diminishes into a pool of nervousness.

"That won't be necessary. Thank you." _Lucien, what on earth have you done to these poor young things?_

Jean pulls in the driveway of her home at a quarter past five, in time for dinner with the family. Matthew's car is parked in front of the house. She takes a deep breath preparing herself for the onslaught that she is sure to get from her friend. When she enters the house the noise that emanates from the kitchen fills her with the warmth of home.

"I'm home." Jean calls out as she makes her way to the source of the sound.

"Nana!" Amelia runs to Jean down the hall, leaping into her grandmother's arms. "I've missed you so much."

"I have only been gone two days, Poppet." As she holds her granddaughter tightly, Jean thinks this is why I had to come home. Whispering into Amelia's ear, "But I missed you to my precious girl."

Jean can feel Matthew's scowl, before he can get a word out she locks eyes with him and gives him a warning. "Not now. Not in front of Amelia."

Matthew walks a few steps more towards her away from the kitchen, away from the earshot of Ruby and Peter. "You spoke with Alice?"

"Amelia go tell mum to set a place for me. I'm terribly hungry." Jean waits till she sees Amelia turn into the kitchen before she looks at her friend. "Yes, I spoke to Alice."

"What the bloody hell are you doing? I don't know what is going on with you Jean but sneaking around, leaving in the middle of the night for God knows where?" Matthew's face is red as he speaks through clenched teeth.

"Matthew, please. NOT NOW!" Her eyes are pleading with him to let it go. She doesn't have the energy to argue with him and she certainly can't explain the events of the past week to him in the hallway of her home. "Meet me tomorrow afternoon. Alice and I are having lunch."

"Lunch? Are you serious? That's it?"

"Yes, now will you excuse me while I go have supper with my family. Are you joining us?"

"I think I have lost my appetite." Jean jumps at the slamming of the door. _Well, I suppose that could have gone worse. _She lets out a sigh and makes her way to the kitchen.

The day is overcast, cold, not the most ideal day to be eating a sandwich by the lake. Leave it to Ballarat weather to give her this autumn day to meet with the only two people that she trusts to help her. Jean makes her way to the bench, her and Lucien's spot, carrying a large basket. Alice and Matthew are waiting.

Matthew stands as Jean approaches, wearing the same scowl as the night before. "Matthew, glad you could join us. Sit." Jean takes a seat next to Alice motioning for Matthew to sit beside her.

"Are you going to tell me what this is all about?" he grumbles, taking his place next to her.

"Yes. Here." She hands him the letter found in the garden. "I found this last Friday." Jean holds her breath as Matthew reads through it.

Matthew looks over to Alice, the earlier scowl gone, now a look of shock fills the man's face. "You knew about this?"

"I found Jean in the garden right after she found it." Alice fidgets under Matthew's glare.

"And neither of you felt fit to tell me about this?"

"Matthew, it isn't that I didn't want to. I had to figure some things out. The only reason Alice knew is because she was there."

"So where is he?"

"I don't know." Jean is finding it difficult to look at her friend, the hurt so clear in his blue eyes.

"I followed a hunch to Adelaide."

"Adelaide?" Matthew interrupted. "That's where you went."

She nods continuing to tell both friends what she discovered in Adelaide. She went through the letters, the articles, and what she discovered in the hotel room; leaving nothing that she deems important for them to know.

"I don't understand why he just doesn't come home." Alice finally speaks as Jean pauses.

Matthew chimes in cutting Jean off, "because he is afraid of something."

"Or someone." Alice adds. "So now what?"

This is the moment Jean has been dreading when this great plan came to her in the still of night. The thing that she knows is really asking too much of her friends. Her voice strains at the words she must say next.

"Lucien has to die."

"WHAT?" Matthew and Alice say simultaneously.

"Not literally him. Look, the verses that are marked in the Bible, the one on the mirror all pertain to the resurrection. Lucien is telling me that in order for him to come back he needs to die. I know this is asking a lot from you both and I understand if you say no but please just hear me out."

Matthew and Alice lock eyes. Alice is the first to nod. Matthew shakes his head at himself as he speaks, "what do you want us to do?"

"I need you to find a body and identify it as Lucien."

"Oh is that all! Because we just have spare bodies lying around." Matthew rubs his face to try and quell his anger.

"Well, what happens to a John Doe? A pauper's gravel with no name. I just thought, well, one would get a proper burial."

"And how do you know we have a John Doe?" Matthew glares at Alice who squares her shoulder daring him to proceed. "Not to mention it is very illegal."

Jean deflates, the bit of hope that the plan might work fading at Matthew's rational words. "I'm sorry Matthew. I just don't know another way. I can't just have him declared dead. That would be the same as this limbo we are in right now. It would be no different to whomever is after Lucien or who is afraid of. I just know there is a reason Lucien chose those verses. I need to bury him in order to have a resurrection. "

The three friends stare out at the lake in silence for a long time. Each thinking of what lies at stake. It is Matthew's gruff voice that breaks the silence. "I'll help. Leave this part up to me."

"And me. I'm helping too." Alice chimes in.

Jean looks between her dear friends as the tears that have been sitting in her eyes begin to fall.

"Jean, you are not to ask any questions. You won't know when this will happen, or where. The less you know the better." Matthew states.

"Here, you might want these." She hands Alice the basket. Inside is a set of Lucien's clothes, his watch and his wallet. "Oh and you better take this too." Jean unclasps the chain around her neck, sliding the gold wedding ring away from where it lies next to the locket. She holds it in her hands a moment before handing it to Alice. She can feel Matthew look away.

"I'll take very good care of this."

"I know you will Alice."

"Now is there any identifying marks that I can use for my report. You know birthmarks, scars, tattoos?"

Jean looks at her friend, her chest tightens. When she thought of this plan she had gone over all sorts of details but this never entered her mind. She needs to bare her husband to her friends, the parts of him that he trusts only to her.

"He has scars." Her mouth feels very dry as she begins, "There is the scar." Jean indicates under her ribcage.

"From Norman Baker."

She continues her voice trembling, "He has scars along his back and one on his inner thigh from the war." She can hear Matthew's deep intake of air.

"Jean, I am sorry but I need to know as if I'm examining the body. This information needs to be in a report."

"I understand," taking another deep breath she continues. "The scars are corded from caning. Most are diagonal from upper left shoulder to the lower right. He also has a small tattoo on his upper right shoulder. The chinese symbol for daughter."

"I think that will be enough information." Matthew can take no more of watching Jean's distress at describing her intimate knowledge of her husband. "Jean, you do understand what this means.

Her brow furrows as she turns to him, "It means I'll get my husband home."

"If this works. It also means that it is a closed case. No one will be searching for him, for better or worse. No keeping Charlie and Danny on the lookout. Once Lucien Blake is declared dead, once I make that death knock to you, not one person but the three of us will put one minute of thought into where he may be."

"That is why it has to work." Jean stands eyes focusing on the black swans gliding gracefully across the water. "When you notify me could you just not do it when Amelia is around? I don't think I could bear seeing her face."

"Of course. I would never." Jean gives Matthew's shoulder a affectionate squeeze before leaving.

Matthew and Alice sit closely on the bench long after Jean departs. They discuss every option and outcome, none too favorable for either of them keeping their jobs. Alice manages to convince Matthew that they at least should avoid jail time if it is government involvement that has done this to Lucien.

When the pair leave the lakeside bench they are shivering from the damp cold air. They have a clear idea of what they want to do to help execute Jean's plan. Now they just need to wait for an opportunity.


	10. Chapter 10

The minutes go by slowly but the days fly by as Jean waits. There is nothing she can do but wait for the solemn faces of officers to approach her, wait for some sign from Lucien; wait to live her life again. She keeps busy with council business, her home, her family.

Amelia seems to sense that something is not right despite Jean, Matthew and Alice's attempts to act the same as before the discovery in the garden. The child turns to her grandmother even more, much to Ruby's distress, insisting, "leave your Nana be." Jean reassures Ruby that Amelia is fine. That a lot of change has happened in a very short time for the child. Secretly, she is thankful for her granddaughter's need for her, another distraction to pass the time.

Nightly, behind closed doors, she pours over everything she brought home from Adelaide. She uses her own Bible to read through the verses that she copied in her notebook, looking for something she may have missed. The articles give her a glimpse of what he knows of her life without him. She can't seem to find any other meaning in them other than him wanting a connection to the life he is missing.

The fifth night of reading through his letters she finds a pattern in the dates. Going back through a calendar Jean notes that all the dates are a Monday, Wednesday or Friday but more so the order of those dates. If the dates on the letters correspond to when he is in Adelaide, which she suspects, then he comes on a Monday, Friday, and then Wednesday with nineteen or 12 days in between. Doing some quick calculation and if she is correct with this clue he has left for her, Lucien will be in Adelaide on Friday.

She chides herself at missing such an obvious, simple clue but then realizes that often Lucien would do the same. How many times he would look for clues and patterns where there are none, not being able to see what is in front of him. Jean finds the humor in it but it also reminds her that she needs to proceed as herself, not by trying to think like Lucien.

Thursday morning Jean wakes with the notion to drive to Adelaide, her patience gone, tired of waiting idly in Ballarat. _Why not wait in room 25? _The day is sunny, crisp full of possibilities. She feels alive with the prospect of seeing Lucien very soon.

In the kitchen Ruby is preparing Amelia's lunch. "Morning Mum."

"Good morning Ruby. You are up early today."

"Mmhm. Seems the baby wants to sit on my bladder this morning. I couldn't fall back to sleep."

"Oh, I remember those days. Jack was the worst. Always kicking me from one end to the other." The women share a laugh at the joys of pregnancy.

"Mum, don't take this wrongly but you seem very happy this morning. I've been worried that Amelia and I here might be too much for you."

"Oh, Ruby no. Please don't think that. I love having the two of you here." Jean takes her daughter in law's hands to emphasize her point. "And I am happy. It is a beautiful day that has been given to us. We need to make the most of these days." Jean goes to the sink to fill the kettle, looking out at her fading gardens seeing only the potential.

"I have some news." Ruby interrupts Jean's dreaming.

"What is it?"

"I'm going to start volunteering at the library a few days a week. Mrs. Summers who usually volunteers took a terrible fall and broke her leg."

"Yes, I heard that. Poor woman."

"Well it seems they are running ragged trying to keep up so I offered to help while Amelia is at school."

"I think that is a wonderful idea. You need to get out of the house, make some friends. Just promise me you won't do too much."

"Promise. I better wake Amelia."

"Wonder where Matthew and Peter are?"

Ruby calls back, "There is a note. They were called into the station early."

* * *

Jean closes the folder of note from the council meeting that took up most of the morning. Bruce Beattie's replacement, though more honorable, is very long winded. She heads to her office to finish up before leaving. If she times her departure correctly she should arrive at the hotel before night fall.

Jean pen flows with ease as one last signature is made. She looks up at the sound of the tap on the door. "Excuse me ."

"What is it Livie?"

The young woman seems nervous standing in the doorway. "The Chief Superintendent is here to see you."

"Well send him in." The beauty of the day, the idea of seeing her husband so very soon, and the busyness of her morning has Jean's mind full of pleasant thoughts. It isn't until she rises from her desk and sees the look on Bill and Peter's faces, the men behind Matthew, does it register what is happening.

She can feel her blood run cold as she looks to Matthew as he begins to speak. "Jean," He clears his throat. "Mrs. Blake, a body has been discovered in the early morning hours by the lake. We believe it to be that of your husband, Dr. Lucien Blake."

Jean knows that this isn't true, that Matthew is just playing his part in the charade but she can't help but react. Her body seems to have a visceral response to Matthew's words. Maybe it is Matthew's words from the previous week, _no one will look for him anymore, _that is causing the reaction. Or maybe it is that it has been done at all, that her dear friends have been pulled into this web of lies, deceit, criminal activity that is making her feel ill.

Her body sways and she can feel her knees go weak as she tries to move. Peter notices and is at her side leading her to sit. "Thank you, Peter." She looks to Matthew. "How?" To Bill and Peter the question is taken as how did he die but there is so much more in that word. _How did you do this? How do we proceed? _

Matthew stands tall, stoically continuing, "The body is at the morgue with Dr. Harvey. At this time she believes that he died of natural causes about a month ago. We will need you to come identify the body when you are ready."

Jean nods. Today held so much promise. The thought of being in Lucien's embrace, having him close to her once again, shatter as the three men wait for her to compose herself in order to be escorted out of the Town Hall for all to see.

Matthew turns to the other men. "Sargent Hobart please go inform the Mayor the Mrs. Blake will be taking some time away from the council. Constable Crowe find the secretary to gather anything Mrs. Blake may need during her absence."

With both men gone Matthew closes the office door. Turning slowly to his friend his face is hard when he speaks. "Jean, there is no turning back now. Can you do this?"

"Yes, of course," she takes a deep breath. "The words, it all seems so real Matthew. He's been gone for so long. People have been whispering those words for months now but to hear them out loud."

"I know."

"Did Bill and Peter see the body?"

"Just Peter from a distance at the morgue. He is the only one that never met Lucien in person. When Bill heard who it was, well, he wanted to be here for you."

"That is kind of him. Is Alice…?"

"Waiting for you. With the sensitive nature and that it is one of our own we are able to break from some protocol. She will walk you through everything when we get there. No one else needs to be involved."

"Matthew did you really do this."

"I told you to let me take care of this. Now are you ready?"

"Ready."

Peter and Bill are waiting on the landing for them. There is a scatter of people in the hall, whispering among themselves as she walks by. Mrs. Butson approaches her offering a comforting hand on an arm before turning away.

Jean holds her head high as she takes Sargent Hobart's arm that he offers, giving her balance down the stairs and out of the confines of the building. The warmth of the sun hits her face as she raises her chin to look at the blue sky that gave her so much hope just a few hours prior. Now in the distance dark clouds form and a heaviness in her heart grows with each step she takes. _What has she asked of her friend? _

She stumbles as she approaches the waiting police car. Bill is still at one side of her, Matthew quickly takes her other arm. Jean looks to Matthew, her distress clear on her face. "Matthew this isn't right. I'm sorry."

"Jean, it is what it is. Come on, in the car. I'll sit in the back with you." Matthew closes the door behind Jean.

The three policemen look to each other once Jean is secure in the back seat. "Boss, what did she mean this isn't right?"

"Shock, constable. Hobart you drive and park us around the back of the hospital. She doesn't need to be made a spectacle. I'm sure the moment we stepped out that building the news started spreading like a bushfire."

"You got it boss. You know I really thought he would turn up one day but not like this. You think he was finally making it home when?"

"Seems like it Bill but I don't know."

* * *

The officers escort Jean to Dr. Harvey who is waiting in her office. Her solemn face matching the gravity of the situation. Peter and Bill stand at a distance watching as Alice shows Jean the personal effects that were taken off the body, a watch, wallet and wedding ring. The men see nothing out of the ordinary. The doctor comforting a friend, morning over a man they both cared for.

Alice turns to the men. "Officers, we don't need your assistance for this. Please let us give Jean some privacy at this time."

Matthew nods his agreement, dismissing the men. "I'll take care of things here. It doesn't seem to be a police matter."

"Boss?"

"Sargent Hobart, Bill." Matthew tries to not lose his temper with the man. "Mrs. Blake is a private person. Please take Constable Crowe back to the station. I will be staying here with Jean to help her."

"Understood Superintendent."

The three friends stand in silence as they watch Bill and Peter retreat down the hall. When the sound of footsteps can no longer be heard there is a collective sigh. "Bloody hell. I think we pulled that off." Matthew says to Alice.

"Where is the body that you used?" Jean asks, not sure if she really wants to know the answer.

"You don't think we would really use a body did you?" Alice answers shortly.

"Oh thank God. But you said?" Jean turns to Matthew.

"I said I would take care of it and I am. I received an anonymous call that a body was found by the lake. Dr. Harvey and I responded to it. Constable Crowe met us at the morgue after transport. He is young, eager to please. He won't question his superior officer and you know how things go, paperwork gets lost all the time."

"The funeral parlor?" Jean questions.

"A very lucky John Doe that is scheduled for a pauper's burial is now going to get a funeral fit for a doctor."

* * *

About four hundred miles away the mysterious man that wanders between towns hits the city limits of Adelaide. He has mastered the art of blending in to become just another lost soul on the streets. His rucksack is over his shoulder, the windbreaker he wears not warm enough for the turn in the weather. The rain begins slowing his pace, water seeping in through his worn shoes.

His feet walk the same path just about every fortnight. He changes his route, the towns he visits in between but he always comes back to the same path that leads to the address of the British Hotel, to room 25. He will arrive, slipping in the back door making his way to the room in the shadows. He will spend time composing a letter to his dear Jean before drifting to sleep dreaming of her and home.

Each time he walks this path he is hopeful that this time there will be a sign from Jean. Even a hope that he will open the door to find her waiting for him. As he opens the hotel room door this rainy autumn evening his heart sinks at the sight of the empty room. _Not this time either._

He dumps the rucksack on the bed only to freeze in his tracks. The room has been tidied up. Panic grips him. He opens the draw to see if the Bible has been disturbed. There folded neatly is one of his white shirts. He picks it up as if it were a newborn and brings it to his face. He can smell her, smell home. He falls to his knees laughing and crying simultaneously. The months of waiting are over. His clever Jean knows he is alive and will figure out how to help him get home.


	11. Chapter 11

"Yes, I want it in all the major papers tomorrow if possible. Thank you." Jean nods into the phone receiver, Rose speaking on the other end. "I know, dear. I'll see you in a couple days. Bye."

Matthew sits across from Jean at the desk a tumbler full of whiskey to ease his nerves. Jean, unable to say the words aloud, to lie so blatantly to her son and to Charlie has Matthew make those calls. Jack and Charlie are both planning on being on the trains to Ballarat first thing in the morning. The other calls, the business end of death, she takes care of herself. A proper funeral for a distinguished major and doctor will take place in four days.

Jean lets out a heavy sigh, "Who else do you think I should call?"

Matthew shrugs, "I'm sure the news is all over town by now. Amy was going to call Danny."

"Good." Jean rests her head in her hands rubbing her temples to try and ease the throbbing. "Maybe I should call Agnes. She shouldn't read about it in the papers."

"What about Mei Lin and Li?" Alice chimes in from the doorway, carrying a cup of steaming tea for Jean.

"I'll write to them. It isn't as if they are able to come here or even expected to try and journey here. It will be for the best." _It will be for the best that they do not know of any of this false death, of this game of lies that they are involved in. They must be kept blissfully ignorant and safe._

Alice sits next to Matthew, her own concerns surfacing, "Jean, Ruby is upset. She doesn't know what she should tell Amelia. I think she wants you to speak with her."

The guttural sound that comes from Jean has Matthew turning away. The young child has woven herself deep into the affections of the, at times, surly man. It has not surpassed the three that this may impact the child in ways they have yet to foresee.

"What am I going to say to her?"

"Normally I would say the truth, but." Alice says bluntly

Jean stares at Alice for a long time before rising from the desk, nodding to herself at what must be done. She leaves her friends in search of her granddaughter. Ruby is sitting on the sofa, softly crying when Jean walks in. Jean wipes the tears from her daughter in law's cheeks.

"Where is Amelia?"

"She is in the sunroom tending to her begonia." Ruby hiccups, "Mum?"

"Sshh, I'll go talk to her."

* * *

Jean watches her granddaughter through the slats in the window, as Lucien often did, watching her tend her flowers. Amelia's curls bounce as the child skips between the flowers singing a silly song she learned in school. When the song ends, Amelia gives a bow which brings a smile to Jean as the tears well in her eyes.

Still uncertain what she will say to the child Jean enters the sunroom. Alice's words ring in her ears, if there is anyone she wants to tell the truth to it is Amelia. The fact that the five year old intuitively knows Jean so well, that she gives Jean such joy makes her long to confide in the child but alas she is a five year old child.

"Nana. I'm singing to my flower. Do you think that will help it grow?"

Jean sits down, pulling Amelia onto her lap. "I am sure it will. You are doing such a wonderful job caring for that begonia. You just may have a winner next year in the festival."

Her little hands clap with excitement at the prospect of a winning flower. Amelia's excitement dulls as she looks into her grandmother's face. "What's happening Nana? Mummy is crying and you look sad."

"You are so smart, Poppet, you know that?" Amelia nods. "You know how Papa has been gone for a long time now."

"Yes, you said he is missing like when I couldn't find my pink ribbon. You said sometimes things just get lost."

"That's right. And what else did I say?"

The child scrunches her nose and brings a finger to her lips deep in thought, "You said if we are lucky sometimes lost things find a way back to us and then it means they were never really lost just misplaced."

Jean runs a hand through a stray curl, "It seems that Papa has been found, Poppet." Jean's voice cracks.

Amelia looks deeply into her grandmother's eyes then picks up the locket from Jean's chest to hold in her small hand. "Is Papa dead? Is that why everybody is sad?"

Jean can't bring herself to quite confirm her granddaughter's words, "so it seems. The police found someone that they believe is your papa. There is going to be a lot of commotion and people in and out of the house over the next few days. You are going to hear many things being said. It may get very confusing for you." Jean finds she is unable to stop speaking trying to make this awful charade alright to her precious girl. It isn't until the small arms wrap tightly around her neck does she cease talking and let her tears flow.

The small face is nestled in the crook of Jean's neck, her tears dampening the unruly curls. She hears the softest words, "it's okay Nana. Papa is just misplaced. I'll stay with you until you can find him again."

Jean's heart shatters at the young child's words. "Yes, Amelia Jean, we will stay together. I love you, my sweet girl."

* * *

The old waitress looks up from the counter when she hears the bell ring over the door. The haggard man takes his usual spot at the table by the front window. She grabs the morning paper and his usual coffee and scone. Approaching the table she notices that he seems lighter, a glint of a smile and a sparkle in his eyes that she doesn't recall seeing before.

"Aaah, thank you Aggie."

"Your welcome." She is about to broach the topic of the woman that was looking for him but his eyes are already digesting the paper in front of him.

The waitress busies herself keeping an eye on the familiar stranger. She notices when he takes his coat off that he is donning a crisp white shirt. It doesn't match the rest of the man with his worn pants, shoes, baseball cap, his hair and beard desperately in need of a trim and yet the fine shirt seems to belong to the man.

Aggie approaches the table with a pot of coffee to refill his cup. He is chuckling to himself. "Something in the paper strikes you funny?"

Lucien burst out laughing, "It seems that I am dead."

The woman squints at him, "If you don't get home to that pretty woman that is looking for you, you will be dead." He stops laughing, eyes becoming moist at the words. "She was in here early last week. Looks about as sad as you. I don't know what is going on with you, stranger, but you need to go home."

"You are absolutely right. It is time to head home." He gets up leaving a five pound note on the table. "Thank you Aggie."

"I hope I don't ever want to see you in here alone again." to which he gives a nod of agreement.

Lucien closes out the safety deposit box and takes out the remaining balance out of the savings account, pleased to see that his clever Jean deposit enough to see his way home.

Back at the hotel, he fills his rucksack with the few items to his name along with the Bible. He picks up the bottle of whiskey about to place it among the sparse items but thinks better about it. Instead he empties the cheap brown liquor down the drain, satisfied that he has no use for it on the next leg of his journey.

At the front desk Melody drops her papers as he nears. She scurries into the back before Lucien has a chance to speak. Mr. Bernard emerges from his office, "Paying for more weeks sir?"

"No. I am checking out. Here is your key."

"Of course, Sir. You do have another week that is paid for."

"Give it to the next person." Lucien gives the manager a large smile, the first in the many months of patronage.

Lucien sets out with a bounce in his steps, a new purpose ahead of him. He knows he can't just hop on the bus and show up at Jean's doorstep. He needs to be careful, travel in the shadows. Allow time for the enemies to come out of the woodwork, let the dust settle. He is acutely aware of all that is at stake but on this beautiful crisp autumn morning he walks with the sun on his face out of Adelaide towards Ballarat, towards Jean, towards home.


	12. Chapter 12

The first visitors offering condolences arrive by midmorning. The lengthy obituary, having made the morning edition of the paper, brings them calling. The casseroles and plates of sweets start lining the counters, filling the refrigerator. Jean is so busy greeting the steady stream of well wishers that she doesn't notice Matthew's disappearance until he is coming into the house with two of her favorite men.

"Mum." Jack touches her shoulder to get her attention from an older woman that is handing off a platter of food.

"Thank you Evelyn." Jean turns her attention to her son, pulling him into a tight embrace. "Jack."

"I'm so sorry mum but at least now you know."

"Yes, we do."

Jean looks up to see Charlie standing in the hall looking forlorn. She pulls away from her son to go to the young man who is like a son to her and Lucien. Her heart breaks for him. Jack's feelings come from being sad for her but Charlie's pain is also for the the loss of Lucien, his friend and father figure. Jean contemplates telling him the truth but doesn't want his career and safety to be jeopardized. Instead she can only hope that Charlie will forgive her for not including him in the charade.

She stands in front of Charlie lifting his chin so that he will look at her. She thinks of all she wants to say to the man before her but nothing seems right. "Let's get you something to eat." she says with a comforting smile.

Charlie gives a grin, "as long as it isn't Mrs. Toohey's food." Jean pulls him into a hug as they both laugh at the older woman's expense.

* * *

It is late afternoon by the time the revolving door of visitors stops. The house is full with only those that matter. Ruby and Amelia are napping, Matthew and Alice are catching up with Charlie in the kitchen, while Jack is puttering in the garage. Jean finds herself in the comfort of the sunroom, taking a moment to gather her thoughts in the quiet of her space.

There is much that she needs to think about. Questioning, doubting how she is going to continue through the next few days. She tries to remind herself that it is a part that she must play in the most important show of her life. _I am never going to act again when this is over._

She is just closing her eyes, enjoying the sun on her face when Alice pokes her head around the corner. "Jean, someone is here to see you."

Jean shoulders slump, "I can't bear to greet anyone else today Alice. Please tell whomever it is that I apologize but I am resting."

"I think you will want to meet this person. He says he is an old friend of Lucien's. A bit of a confronting man, has only one arm."

"What?" Jean mind whirls with confusion. Only one person that she knows fits that description but how can he be here? "I'm coming Alice."

"He is waiting in the surgery."

Jean can feel all eyes on her as she makes her way down the hall. Before entering the surgery she gives her friends a nod, reassuring them that she is fine.

"George McLeod, what are you doing here?" Pleasantries leaving her as many warning bells ring in her mind.

"Hello to you too." Jean gives him a cautious grin in warning to the man that she is in no mood for games. "I thought it was time for a visit. See how you are fairing."

"That is thoughtful of you but you really didn't need to come all this way to check on me." Jean sits in Lucien's chair behind the desk keeping a distance between them.

George holds up the paper, "So is it true?"

Lucien's words ring in her ears. _Trust no one but the few we hold closest to us. _"Yes, I'm afraid it is. It appears he was trying to get home and had a heart attack before he reached here."

"And he didn't contact you?"

Jean shakes her head eyes never leaving the large Scotsman. Something about his presence in her home has her feeling uneasy. "I told you what I found. He must have been afraid of something or someone."

"Damn. I am sorry lass. I really thought I might be able to help you."

Jean looks hard at the man, "Did you find anything else out?"

"Nae, nothing." He is lying, Jean is sure of it. She doesn't know why but her gut is telling her something isn't right.

"The funeral is Monday. Will you be staying for it?"

"Aye. I'll be there."

"Good." She thinks how she needs more time to watch this larger than life man, more time to pinpoint why she is uncertain about this man that once Lucien trusted with his life. "I would offer you a room here but I'm afraid my home is full with family at the moment." There is a hardness in Jean's tone that does not go unnoticed by man.

George gives a nod, "I'll be going then. I'll show myself out."

Jean stares into the void for a minute. Hearing the door close her sense of propriety takes over. She follows after the man that once was Lucien's friend, confidant. Opening the front door she is taken back at the sight. Mr. Camisa's delivery truck is in the driveway, the driver speaking to George, through the open window. George's face appears angry as if he is not pleased to see the person behind the wheel.

She lets out a gasp just as George looks towards the house making eye contact with her. He gives a wave that Jean is unable to return. He continues out towards the road to where Jean does not know. She hates this feeling of mistrust, that the world is against them. Everywhere she turns she thinks she is seeing a piece of the conspiracy.

"Nana?"

Jean nearly leaps out of her skin. She places a hand on her heart. "Amelia! Good heavens. I thought you were napping?" Jean scoops up her granddaughter protectively as the man gets out of the truck.

"Hello Mrs. Blake. My father sent me. He wanted to come but he is feeling a bit under the weather."

"Tony. I haven't seen you in some time." Jean holds Amelia tighter.

The dark haired man gives a toothy smile. "I was away for awhile but figured I better come home since dad is getting on in years."

"Yes, you come and go don't you? Your father said you are the one to convince him to move here from the city."

"I guess I did." Tony's lack of elaboration tells Jean that her inquiry has been halted. "Anyway, Dad and I send our condolences." The man holds up a basket of food.

"Ow, Nana you're hurting me."

Jean loosens the grip she has on the child, placing her back on the ground. "I'm sorry Poppet."

"Shall I bring this inside for you?"

"No, I can take it. Thank you."

"It is very heavy. I would feel better carrying it in for you."

Jack steps out of the garage to see his mother on the porch, looking uncomfortable. He makes his way quickly to her aid.

"I'm sure I can manage." Jean's steel blue eyes bore into the man.

Tony hesitates but hands over the basket to her. Jack overhears the tail end of the conversation. "I've got this mum. I'll bring it in the house for you."

"If you need anything Mrs. Blake please give us a call."

"Thank you Tony. Give my regards to your father."

Jean walks to the kitchen following Jack and Amelia. Jack places the large basket on the table and begins emptying it. Charlie joins in commenting on the contents.

"Stop!" All heads turn, Jean standing in the archway seething with anger. "I don't want it."

"Mum?"

"Jean?"

Jean grabs the basket off the table and heads out of the house, Matthew close behind. "Jean, what is going on?

"It is all too much. We should give some of this to the needy." she says, thinking of something quickly. Piece by piece she empties the basket into the trash. At the very bottom under an embroidered cotton tea cloth is a small metal disc. She holds it up for Matthew to see.

He is about to speak but Jean places a finger to his lips before he can make a sound. She places the bugging device on the ground, crushing it with the heel of her shoe. The sound of the metal breaking gives her much pleasure as her fury rises.

"How the bloody hell did you know?" Matthew is wearing a look that is a cross between amazement and shock.

Jean squares her shoulders as if readying herself for a battle she aims to win. "Call it a very good hunch." She bends down to pick up the shattered pieces throwing them over the garden wall with force. Smoothing her skirt down Jean turns to Matthew before heading back into the house, "If anyone asks, tell them that I'm a grieving woman and just had a moment."

He nods muttering, "Remind me never to underestimate you."

* * *

Just past the Murray Bridge an old ute slows down as it approaches Lucien. The driver, an old man well into his seventies, calls out over a black shaggy mutt that is hanging out the window. "Oi mate, looks like you could use a lift?"

Lucien pats the drooling pup, sizing up the wrinkled man behind the wheel. "I am a bit knackered. Ta." He climbs in, sack on the floor between his feet.

"How far are you going?"

"Ballarat."

"Whoo, that is quite a way to go. I'm only going as far as Coonaloyn but you're welcome to join me."

"I appreciate that."

"What's in Ballarat?"

"Everything that is important." He turns to watch the passing landscape, adding. "My life, home."


	13. Chapter 13

The course of the following days leading up to the funeral are uneventful at least as far as strange visitors and baskets of spy gear. The extended family stays close within the walls of the Blake house. Charlie joins Jack puttering in the garage. Matthew and Alice find an easy rhythm entertaining Amelia while Ruby helps Jean in the kitchen in a quiet dance.

Rose arrives from the city on Sunday. Jean puts her in Amelia's room since the boys have the others. The small child gladly relinquishes her space, thinking she will share her grandmother's big bed.

"You need to stay with your mummy, me dear." Jean tells her granddaughter who looks shattered at her Nana's rejection.

It is late Sunday night, most everyone in bed when Jean approaches Rose in the kitchen as she puts away the remaining dinner dishes. "Could you do me a favor, Rose?"

"Certainly Jean. What is it?"

"I know this sounds odd but tomorrow at the funeral could you take photographs for me?"

"You want me to take photos?" Rose replies more than a little shocked at Jean's request..

"Well not of the," gesturing in front of her, "I want the people that are attending. There will be so many paying their respects. I want to be able to look back and be reminded of some of the faces." She quickly adds, "to thank later."

"Of course, if it will help you."

"Thank you, Rose. And maybe if you can take them discreetly?"

"Naturally." If Rose thinks this is an odd request she keeps it to herself, after all it is Jean that is asking so there must be a reason.

"I'm going to head to bed. Tomorrow is going to be," pausing for the right words, _overwhelming, difficult, full of deception, _"a lot."

Rose heads up the stairs moments later, wishing she could join Charlie for comfort but those days are long in the past. The choices she made years before has her drifting off to sleep alone in a room a few doors from him.

* * *

The house is abuzz with activity. Eight people are scurrying around to get ready to leave to make it to the funeral parlor on time. If it were different circumstances Jean would be rejoicing having her home filled with loved ones but among all the bustle there is a heaviness in the air. Laughter ends too quickly as if it is wrong to be jovial. Guarded politeness is in place where friendly teasing should be.

Jean hears Amelia arguing with Ruby over shoes. Jack, Peter and Charlie are knotting their ties in the small mirror, while Matthew grumbles about the younger men. She sits sipping her cuppa watching the commotion around her. The phone's piercing ring cuts through the other noises.

Jean reaches the phone on the second ring, "Hello, Blake residence." there is no response on the other end. "Hello." She can tell that someone is there. She hears a car horn in the background. Is it him? Does she dare say his name?

"Nana! Mummy won't let me wear my red shoes." At Amelia's shouting Jean hears a large intake of air in her ear, confirming her suspicions that it is Lucien reaching out. Jean pulls the receiver away from her face so that he can hear clearer the sounds of home.

"Now, Poppet, we have talked about this. You need to listen to mummy."

"But Nana, they are my favorite and you said Papa would love them." The little girl pleads.

"I did say that didn't I? How about when we come back to the house you change into them if mummy says it is alright but for the service you wear the black ones mummy wants you to wear?"

"Okay."

"Go finish getting ready. We need to leave soon." Jean wipes the stray tear from the girl's cheek before she skips off.

Amelia calls over her shoulder, "I love you."

Jean speaks into the phone receiver as she answers, "I love you too," before hanging it up.

* * *

At a small roadside gas station outside of Horsham Lucien rests his head against the wall of the phone box. His hand is still on the receiver, his body shaking as the tears flow. He finally hears the sound of his beloved's voice and their precious granddaughter's. Her words fill him with the fuel he needs to keep traveling. He has a way to go but not as far as he has come.

* * *

The service goes much as she expects. Throngs of people pass by to offer their condolences. Most mean well and are sincere in their wishes while others come for a glance at the twice widowed woman. The town will always have those that will want to talk behind others backs and what greater place to get fodder for gossip than the spectacle of the funeral of Dr. Lucien Blake.

At the graveyard Jean keeps an eye on the crowd of people. She doesn't watch for familiar faces, those she expects to see. It is the unknown faces that she is looking for, the people that may not belong. She catches a glimpse of George standing alone in the back. The man genuinely looks upset at the loss of his friend which confuses her thinking of the man.

Throughout it all, Jean plays her part well. She thinks of Christopher, remembering the loss of him, imagining that this is for him. The tears come easily when she does. No one is the wiser that it is her first husband's death that is allowing them to appear. The family, Jean's extended family, stay close to her in a protective manner. She feels guilty about receiving such unconditional love.

The crowd starts to disperse after the final _Amen_. Some will return to the Blake house for the second act. Jean looks up at George once again expecting to see him looking towards the grave, at her but his eyes are hard and staring to the left. Her own eyes move to see what has caught his attention. Surprisingly he is staring at the group of military brass that has come representing the army.

Jean gasps, in the group of several men is one very familiar face. Certainly a face she never thought she would see again; Sargent Robert Hannam, though he is wearing the uniform of an officer now. Hannam and the Scotsman's eyes seem to be locked in a challenge of sorts.

"Mum, Mum!" Jack takes her arm drawing her attention from the men who clearly know each other.

"I'm sorry. What?"

"I said, it's time to go home."

"Yes, of course. Amy will need help putting the food out."

"There are plenty of people to help with that but we should get going. Do you think they will come to the house?" Jack asks, never one for authority figures.

"Who?"

"The military blokes."

"I'm not sure but I have my suspicions that they will."

* * *

Jean steals herself away from the crowd that is gathered at the house. Exhausted from walking the tightrope of bereaved widow, hostess and sleuth, the garden is a welcome place to regroup her mind. Amelia follows close behind seeing her grandmother head outdoors.

"Nana, can I look for Peaches?"

"Yes, but only in our garden." Jean watches her granddaughter run to the garden edge, red shoes flashing in the sun in search for the orange cat.

Behind her she hears footsteps approaching. She turns to see a general walking towards her, flanked with a man on either side. Her blood runs cold to see Hannam amongst the three men.

"Excuse me for interrupting Mrs. Blake. I am Major General Stuart Graham. My sincerest condolences on the passing of your husband."

Jean's mind is swirling with the fact that such a high ranking officer is in front of her with Hannam by his side. "Thank you. Did you know Lucien?"

"The Major and I were in the war together for a time. I was lucky enough to get out of Singapore. I was very glad to hear he made it out alive, many didn't." Jean nods understanding all too well what Lucien endured at the prison camp. "After the war we worked together for a few years."

Jean head snaps up at this revelation, "You knew Lucien after the war?"

"Yes, quite well in fact. That's why when Major Hannam suggested Blake could help with the campaign in Vietnam with his knowledge of the area and relations with China I jumped on the chance to get him on board."

Jean's brow is high as she stares at Hannam, a major now, despite his actions with Alderton and Sullivan that should have had him court marshalled. "General, my husband had no intentions of rejoining the army to help in any way." the blood that was running cold now boiling in anger. "He gave enough of himself and has the scars to prove it. I can't imagine what Major Hannam told you to make you believe he would."

" I don't mean to upset you, but I spoke to Lucien and he agreed, with a few stipulations of course, I believe regarding your son, Christopher Beazley."

"And yet Christopher is in Vietnam." Jean is shaking, trying not to divulge too much in her anger.

Hannam interrupts, "Major Blake never reported to duty. The army is under no obligation to uphold the agreement. Your son remains a captain as he earned the promotion on his own merit and his position at the embassy is a very desirable one."

Hannam is ready to continue on when the General stops him. " , I don't know what happened that Lucien didn't report to us or what happened after. I hold your husband in high regard and I am sorry for your loss."

"Nana, I can't find her." Amelia comes running over to the adults.

"Your granddaughter?"

"Yes." Jean turns to Amelia, "Go in the house now. I'll be right in." She turns back to the officers after her granddaughter is inside. "If my husband didn't report for duty then why didn't anyone come looking for him? Why wasn't he court marshalled? Is it common practice in our army to just let people go when they don't do their duty? No one thought to question such a respected man's disappearance, especially after what was reported in the papers out of Sydney?" The three high ranking men are visibly uncomfortable under Jean's scrutiny.

The nameless officer mutters a _no ma'am. _The general has an apologetic look as if saying _the poor bereaved woman._ But it is Hannam, who has crossed Jean before, that holds her challenging gaze. He has seen those eyes over the wrong end of a gun. He knows all too well that Jean Blake is not a woman to underestimate.

"No? I didn't think so. Now if you excuse me gentlemen I have a house full of people."

Once in the sunroom, her back still to the garden she lets her guard down for a moment. She is so upset, combined with the rage that burns in her, the tears come easily. Tears that her own country could do this to her, to Christopher, to Lucien. Tears because she knows that her dear Lucien is making her way back to her at this very moment. Tears that there is so much she still needs to do to protect all that she loves. She sits on the bench sobbing as the waves of emotions wash over her.

Comforting arms are around her pulling her into a hug before she even realizes that she is no longer alone. "It's alright Jean. You don't always need to be so strong."

"Thank you Charlie." She sits up wiping the tears away. "I'm better now."

"I can stay longer in Ballarat if you need me. I can take the time."

Charlie's concern for her touches her deeply. "No. I'm alright. The house is so full with Ruby and Amelia, I have plenty of distractions. Besides, you are saving your time to take that trip overseas."

"A few extra days won't matter for the trip."

"Charlie, I'm fine. Now did you need something?" Jean wipes the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand.

"Oh right! People are starting to leave, figure you might want to say goodbye."

"I suppose I should." Jean looks out towards the garden, the officers gone as quickly as they came but their presence, words linger with her.

* * *

The mourners are long gone, the house clean and food put away, barely a trace of the dozens of people that came through left behind. The house seems eerily quiet after so much activity, the many floral arrangements softening the sounds of those upstairs readying for bed. Jean meets Matthew in the kitchen, each having set off in a different direction turning off lights and locking doors.

Jean rubs her arm, the warmth from her favorite sweater not enough to stop the chill of the night. "It is going to be cold tonight."

"Mmm. Cuppa?"

"No. I am so tired Matthew. I just hope I can turn my mind off to sleep."

"Me too. What now? We just wait?"

Jean nods not really sure what to tell her dear friend. "I'm going to head to bed. You should too." Her gentle hand on his arm encourages Matthew to leave the day behind.

* * *

In an old barn well off the main road Lucien seeks shelter for the night. He curses the fact that he dumped the whiskey as he drinks a bottle of coke, washing down the remains of a dry sandwich. He snuggles into a bed of hay warding off the cold of the late autumn night but despite the cold, he is warm with the sounds of Jean and Amelia still clearly in his mind. He falls asleep easily dreaming of Jean and of home.


	14. Chapter 14

One by one Jean's family leave, back to continue their lives. Matthew, Peter and Alice return to work. Amelia goes to school and Ruby volunteers at the library. Life goes on as it should for those around her.

Jean goes about her days, keeping busy as a newly anointed widow should, laying low in the comforts of her home, waiting. By Friday Jean feels if she will go crazy if she doesn't get out of the house, so accustomed to a busy life outside the home these days.

Once the confines of these walls filled her days. It was her job to be the keeper of the house, greeting patients and organizing the books. Trips to the market, church and the sewing circle were her weekly scheduled outings but then came Lucien changing everything. The man that slowly gave her more, showed her more than to be content with what life handed her.

The kitchen table is littered with unopened correspondences from people unable to attend the funeral. She stares at them noting the return addresses, most from Melbourne and surrounding areas. There is one name that catches her attention, O'Brien. The frustration of the situation rises in her once again at the thought of Mattie's parents ringing her in London and telling her the news. Mattie will be heartbroken but Jean can't change what is done.

Jean throws the pile of letters in the trash bin. She scrolls on a piece of paper; _went for a walk _in case someone comes home before she gets back. No sense in making others worry she thinks as she grabs her coat slamming the door and locking it behind her. Her feet take her in the direction that she needs to be.

* * *

The closer to Ballarat he gets the more diligent he is to travel unseen. He moves at night in the cover of darkness. The predawn hours have him walking a familiar path. A friendly orange cat weaves through his legs purring loudly. He bends to scratch the old friend, "Well, hello Peaches. Good to see you're still around."

There is a part of him that wants to sneak into the house at this very moment, to use the key hidden in the sunroom to let himself in the back door. To be able to slide into the bed, to curl up against his wife in the shelter of her warmth is what his dreams have been filled with, she is home for him. The thought of Jean so close almost has him take the chance but he didn't come this far to get caught now with a misguided step.

He slowly opens the garage door so no sound is made breaking the stillness, sliding inside making sure the cat doesn't follow. Expecting it to be much as he left it, he is caught off guard by the changes. Someone has been working here, the once cluttered space clean and organized. He finds an old lounge chair and props it up to try and claim some much needed sleep.

The slamming of the front door wakes him. He jumps up to peer out the door to see who may have closed the house door with such fury. Lucien almost races out of his hiding spot as he sees Jean walk with determination up the driveway. He notes her hair is longer, softer but the sway of her hip with each long stride is the same. He aches to run his fingers through the chestnut tendrils, to wrap an arm around her waist to lay a hand possessively on the curve of her hips. Just as he is about to make a noise to get her attention to end his agony, Mrs. Murphy joins Jean on the road heading away from the house.

Lucien waits for a time before sneaking out of the garage to the back of the house. He steps into the sunroom, the one room that is more Jean than any other. He wants to stay waiting amongst her beautiful blooms, sheltered from the cold but a room with so much glass, open for all to see if one looks is not an ideal spot for someone supposedly dead to wait. He finds the spare backdoor key hidden where it has always been. He holds it in the palm of his hand, the most precious thing he has held in months; the key to the portal that will lead him home.

* * *

Mrs. Murphy keeps Jean company along the way until their paths need to split. Jean longs for the serenity of the lake, not unsolicited conversation from the ladies in the shops. She sits for a long time in the late autumn sun, watching the swans, dreaming of a future that may still be in her grasp. The rumble of her stomach and the chill in her bones motivates her to head home.

Still in a dream like more centered from her time by the lake, Jean enters the house, tossing her keys on the table and hanging her coat. She is almost to the kitchen when her pace slows, something is off, different then when she left. The small hairs on the nape of her neck stand on edge with fear or is it anticipation?

Continuing to the kitchen, she looks around for anything misplaced, taken. Does it seem like the letters in the trash have been rifled through? The tin full of biscuits seems to be moved but she can't be certain. She opens it to see the contents then scoffs at herself. Between Amelia and Peter she never knows how many are in it at any given time but she was sure there were more than presently are in there.

Someone is in the house or were in the house she is sure of it. Her head tells her she should be frightened with all that has been occurring but her gut is a flutter with butterflies that he is finally home. She heads to the parlor and notices the phonograph is on, the record spinning. The static from the needle as it runs across the center of the vinyl, the song long over, thunders in her head or is that her heart. She turns it off. Reading the title of the song as it slows, _Someone To Watch Over Me_. Their song. The song they dance to in this room, the song she sang to him in the hotel in Paris while swaying together, the song she hasn't had the heart to listen to for the past fifteen months.

"Lucien!" she gasps before turning to their bedroom, praying that he is there. Praying that he didn't just pass through leaving another sign that he is alive. She needs him not more bloody signs.

She swings the bedroom door open with such force it hits the wall, his name falling from her lips through ragged breaths. Her knees go weak at the sight of him standing before the fireplace. Before she is on the ground, Lucien has her in his arms as they crumble to the floor woven together as one. Their tears mingle as they kiss, not a long passionate kiss of desire, no, they kiss each other as lovers who thought they would never get this chance again, messy; touching lips to every part of each other's face. Hands trace every line until they just are left holding each other feeling their hearts beating together through their bodies shaking as they weep.

Slowly he rises helping her off the ground. He closes the bedroom door to ensure their privacy. So that no one discovers his presence in the house. He needs this time with Jean and only his Jean.

When he turns back to her, she is finally able to get a good look at him. He is thinner but not gaunts by any means, skin sunburnt is areas from his travels but yet ashen and worn. He looks tired, beaten down by the months. His hair and beard are long and unruly; grayer. His eyes are drawn and sad despite the love that is in them as he gazes upon her. "Oh, Lucien," is all that she is able to mutter as she reaches out a hand guiding him to the sofa.

With him sitting before her she is able to trace his face with trembling hands, reassuring herself that he is real. Too many times she has dreamt of this only to wake alone. She folds herself into his warm embrace. "If this is another dream, I don't want to wake up anymore."

"It is not a dream, my love. I am ever so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen." he squeezes her tightly, breathing her in, reminding himself that it is real also.

Jean pulls away from him just enough to look him in the eyes. "This is not your fault Lucien. None of this. You were betrayed and lied to."

He sees the rage in her, a rage that he has never seen before. "Jean." he says warningly.

"No Lucien. I have found things out. I haven't figured it all out yet but with you here I know together we will. And when we do these people will pay for what they have done to you, to us. I will not let them get away with this." The adrenaline is coursing through her body, she begins to tremble once again as more tears flow.

He pulls her close, "Come here. We will figure it all out."

"But Lucien, what happened to you? Where have you been?"

"Sshh, later. Later I will tell you everything. Right now the journey doesn't matter. What matters is that I'm home and all I want to do is hold you tight and never let you go."


	15. Chapter 15

Jean lies with her head on his chest matching her breathing to his heartbeat that thumps in her ear. His hand is in continuous motion rubbing her back, running through her hair, as he peppers kisses to the top of her head. Slowly she lifts her head to gaze at him.

"You need a haircut." she says with a meek smile while running her fingers through the curls at his neck.

"Yes, I'm afraid I let myself go." He runs his own hand through hers mirroring her actions. "Yours is longer too. I like it."

"Lucien I'm sorry I only found the box in the garden a few weeks ago. I wasn't sure what to do at first."

"Ssshh, Jean. It doesn't matter. And to be honest if you found it sooner I don't know what I would have done. Though it would have been nice if you found it a bit sooner." He gives her one of his teasing grins.

"Lucien that doesn't help!"

"I'm sorry Dear. I knew that what was being asked of me probably wasn't as it seemed and I knew that they were going to tell you some story to hide the truth but I never imagined all that happened."

"What did happen?"

"I was told that I could help Christopher. They knew things, how to get to you. Then I was betrayed by someone. I don't know all of it but nothing was as it should have been."

"At the funeral," Lucien shifts uncomfortably at the thought of what Jean has gone through, "a General Graham said you agreed to help in Vietnam and Hannam was with him." Lucien nods confirming that he knows of Hannam's involvement. " And then there is George McLeod! He showed up at my doorstep after I had called him for information. He seems to know the grocer's son, who gave me a basket with a listening device in it by the way!" Jean's voice speeds up, volume rising as her frustration comes to a head. "I was told you fell off a bridge in Sydney, thinking you're dead but not giving up hope."

"That's what they told you?" he interrupts.

"Yes, that you were following the suspect and you fell. Lucien, what is going on? I don't know who to trust or what to believe anymore."

Lucien wears a look of confusion and frustration that matches his wife's. It occurs to him that once again Jean knows more about the situation than he does. That there are pieces of the puzzle that she may have solved in a few short weeks that he hasn't been able to put together in months or is it even years.

"Jeannie, you said George McLeod came to Ballarat?"

"Yes. He might even still be here but I don't know. He was staying at The Soldier Hill."

"What did you tell him? How much does he know?" Lucien has a wild look in his eyes that frightens her.

"Just that I found the metal box in the garden and what your letter said."

"Did you tell him you were going to Adelaide?" he holds her shoulders to keep his hands from trembling.

"No Lucien! The only people that know about Adelaide are Matthew and Alice. They are the only ones that know that you are not buried in the plot in the cemetery. I told him nothing else."

He nods as more pieces fall in place, "Good." Lucien is about to say something else when a high pitch voice calls out stopping him mid thought.

Jean jumps up. "Amelia! I have to go before she comes in here." she makes her way to the door leaving Lucien baffled at what is happening. "Stay put. I'll be back when I can slip away."

* * *

"Nana, there you are!" Amelia greets Jean in the dining room.

"Yes, I'm here Poppet." Jean lets out a heavy breath at how close Amelia was to walking in on her with Lucien.

"Look what I made in school today. It's a rainbow."

"It is beautiful. Where shall we hang it?"

"It's for you Nana. Let's hang it in your room." Amelia skips past Jean towards the studio.

"No!" Amelia stops abruptly at her grandmother's raised voice. "It is far too pretty for only me to enjoy it. Why don't we hang it on the refrigerator so all can see it?"

"Okay Nana. Can I help make dinner too?"

"I think that is a marvelous idea. Come on, best get started."

Matthew and Peter aren't able to make it home for dinner much to Jean's relief. Amelia easily distracts her mother from taking notice if Jean is not acting herself. Matthew wouldn't be so easily fooled and Jean is not ready to share the news that Lucien has returned, not yet anyway. She knows it is selfish but she wants him for herself for just a little bit longer. She needs to have him for herself.

"Ruby, I'll make the boys plates and do the washing up. You go on ahead upstairs with Amelia."

Once Ruby is out of sight Jean quickly fills a plate with food, making her way to the studio. "Lucien?" He is not in sight, panic grips her.

"I'm here." He steps out of the bathroom, beard trimmed neatly the way Jean likes it best.

"I brought you dinner. I can't stay here now but I'll be back in a tick." Before he can even get out a thank you she is gone.

The kitchen is clean, food for Matthew and Peter waiting for their arrival home by the time Amelia comes back down the stairs ready for her nightly story before bed.

"Nana, I'm ready for my story."

"Good. Me too." Jean lifts her granddaughter up with an _oof _and makes her way to the sofa. "You my dear are getting too big for me to lift up."

"Carry me just a little longer, Nana. Just till the new baby comes." Amelia's small arms circle around Jean's neck holding tight.

"I will carry you as long as I'm able. Now what are we reading tonight?"

"This one!"

"_Blinky Bill _again? Didn't we just read this the other night?"

With wide eyes Amelia comes in close to whisper in her grandmother's ear as if divulging a grand secret. "It's my favorite," to which she breaks into a fit of giggles. Jean begins laughing along with the child. The first honest laugh in weeks.

The worrying over Lucien's whereabouts no longer weighing on her. The relief that he is safely home in the next room fills her. The joy that her granddaughter gives her whenever she is present consumes her till tears are streaming from laughing.

"Why is that so funny?" the child, still giggling along.

"It is just that you are so very cute my dear and I love you." Jean brushes away the tears. "You know, this was your Uncle Jack's favorite too."

"Not Daddy's?"

"No, Daddy was a _Magic Pudding_ child."

"Oh, I like that one too." She quickly adds.

"I know you do Poppet. Now let's get started or you won't hear much of it at all before you need to be in bed."

* * *

As Jean reads, Lucien sits on the floor leaning against the door and listens. His eyes shine with the unshed tears from listening to the exchange between Jean and their precious girl. He doesn't know how long he has been sitting on the floor lost in thought before he notices that he no longer hears Jean reading on the other side of the door. He gets up feeling his body ache and the exhaustion setting in.

He makes his way back to the bathroom peeling the worn clothes off, leaving them in a pile to be discarded in the trash. He pauses and bends picking up the white shirt that Jean had so tenderly left for him, this he thinks he will keep. The water runs hot before he steps in washing away weeks of grime, months of longing, a year's worth of agony. He wants to be clean for his Jean, body and soul.

Lucien climbs into the bed, his body feeling as if it is melting in the comfort of their bed, the bed he bought with and shares with his wife. Her scent is so strong amongst the sheets. He slides to the center so that he can reach one of her pillows, holding it close while he waits for her to return.

The room is dark except for the small lamp on the nightstand. He doesn't hear the door open and close or the click that the lock makes as Jean turns it, ensuring that no little one creeps in the room late in the night. He doesn't hear her gentle footsteps approach the bed, the sound of her clothes being hung over the chair or the clink of her locket being placed in the porcelain bowl.

She looks down at her sleeping husband. Her strong, handsome, brilliant man is snoring, in such a deep slumber. His arms holding tightly to her pillow like a small child holding a teddy bear. There is so much she needs to tell him, so much they need to talk about; to try and figure out and yet at this moment she just wants to be in the folds of his arms instead of that bloody pillow.

Her motion of climbing into bed wakes him. "Oh Jean. I am so sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"Sshh." she slides between the sheets scooting towards him. Lucien places her pillow back by the headboard in the same motion of pulling her close. "Sleep, my darling. You must be so tired."

"Sleep can wait. Right now I just need you, to feel you near me." His rough hands send shivers up her spine as they trace along her bare skin.

In a husky voice Jean whispers in his ear, "I need you too, Lucien, so very much." She means this more than anything. The months of missing him, the weeks of deception and searching has culminated to this moment, to have him again beside her. Her visceral need to be held, to be in the shelter of his embrace leaves her trembling for want.

This time their kiss is full of deep passion and desire, as husband and wife bound to one another. They kiss and make love as if they never thought they would have this chance again, slowly, gently savoring each touch; each breath of one anothers. No touch, no brush of lips, no word of endearment is taken for granted. Late in the night, as they lie holding each other, willing themselves not to drift to sleep, they give a silent thank you for the chance to love and be loved once more. A thank you to have this feeling of home that only comes when they are together.


	16. Chapter 16

The sun is barely peeking above the horizon when Jean makes her way back to the bed. She slips off the robe that she is wearing to ward off the chill before slipping back into bed. Lucien's gentle snore is music to her ears. She lifts his hand to slide back under his arm when her fingers trace his bare ring finger. His wedding ring is still safely on the chain next to the heart shaped locket. She takes the necklace from the porcelain dish, removes the ring before securing the chain once more around her neck.

Jean can hear Lucien's breathing change despite her best efforts to not disturb him. When she turns back to him his large smile and sparkling eyes are evident even in the dim light dawn. She is very aware that in a mere hour or so she will need to be in the kitchen, her family expecting her steady presence but till then she will relish this quiet time with him.

"I've been keeping this close. Waiting to put it back where it belongs." She slides the gold band back on his finger. She notes he closes his eyes and hums as it slides into place, a tear trickles down off his nose onto the pillow.

"Leaving that behind was so difficult. Much harder than I ever imagined. Each time I went to the bank I would wear it even if it was just for a few minutes." He lifts the gold heart that is nestled between her breasts, rubbing a thumb along the engraving. "I see you found the lockets?"

"Yes. I gave Amelia hers for her birthday….We wear them all the time to keep you close."

"Do you have any idea how much I love you? Love being married to you?" Lucien's voice cracks as he tries to convey his feelings.

"I know, Lucien, I know but why did you go?"

"I didn't want to, please believe me. All I wanted to do was be the best husband I could be for you. I was first contacted before Christmas. They made it sound like I would be doing a great favor to them and the country. I refused Jean. I promise, I did." He sits up before continuing. "The second time I was approached the tone was more forceful but I still denied their request. Then the photos started arriving."

"Photos? Of what?"

"First were photos of us together around town, here at the house. Then some from our honeymoon arrived, us in Lucerne, Rome, London, Paris."

"Our honeymoon!….Lucien, what does that mean?"

"It means they have been watching me, us for a long time. I still didn't give in. But then the photos started coming of you alone. They were warning me that they could get to you."

Jean's forehead wrinkles, deep in thought. "I remember you wanting to be with me everywhere, following me to the stores, my every move."

"I figured if I could keep you close I could protect you."

"Oh Lucien." She strokes his cheek, "Why didn't you say something? Did you really think that you could just follow me everywhere?"

"I just wanted to keep you safe and then the final straw was when I got the photo of Christopher with Amelia." Jean gasps at the notion that these people would use her family to get to Lucien. "I couldn't let them do anything to our family so I went to them on my terms. I went to Graham, whom I knew from the war, and made an agreement to assure Chrisopher's safety in exchange for me agreeing to the mission."

"But Christopher _is_ in Vietnam."

"WHAT?"

"Lucien, keep your voice down. You'll wake Matthew. General Graham told me you never reported for your mission that there was only so much he could do for Christopher so he assigned him to the embassy. He left in April. And Hannam? Is he behind all of this?"

"Hannam is most definitely involved but he isn't alone in this. It is too involved for any one man. He was the initial person that contacted me but after that it was never the same person."

"I don't understand Lucien. All of this just to get to you? Does this go back to Alderton and Sullivan?"

"I don't know Jean. I really don't know."

They sit in the quiet each in their own thoughts putting pieces together. The sun is higher in the sky, allowing streams of light to fall across the room through the curtains. Jean repositions herself so that she can rest her head on his shoulder.

"What about George McLeod? There is something not setting right with me about him. I know he is your old friend but why is he here?" Her fingers run along the silken edge of the blanket asking the questions as much to herself as to Lucien.

"I've been thinking about that since you mentioned he was here. I just can't believe he would be involved in this other than to try and protect us. If he knows things or found out something I am certain he came to Ballarat to protect you for me." Jean knows Lucien's loyalty as much as it is a trait that she loves deeply can also be hindrance. Thinking better to point this out to him, she lets the matter of George McLeod pass for now. She will look into the man some more soon enough.

"Lucien what did happen to you?"

"Early March, before I left, I got a message of where to report. I didn't like the feel of any of it so that is when I decided that I needed to put things in place for you. Just in case, you know?"

"Good thing you did!"

"Yes….I met a contact in Sydney with information before boarding the plane to Singapore."

"So you did go to Singapore. Oh Lucien, how could they do that to you?"

"It's alright my darling. It wasn't so horrible facing those demons knowing I had you waiting for me here." He continues his story, needing to get it all out, to tell Jean the saga of his time in Asia. Lucien tells of the contacts that never show, the old friends he sought out, the strangers that followed him, the dark alleys and jungles he traveled making his way to Saigon. "The whole mission was to take no more than a month. I knew from the moment that first contact in Singapore did not show that something was wrong but it wasn't till I arrived at the embassy that I understood I was being set up to disappear or be killed even."

The room is alight with the morning sun but Jean is unable to remove herself from her husband's side. Her voice cracks with emotion when she speaks, "What do you mean? What happened at the embassy?"

"I reported who I was and my mission, even told them to call Graham but they said there was no record of me in service or that I even was in the country. Of course, I had no way to prove I was Lucien Blake because…"

"You were there as Thomas Etienne."

"Yes. So I left. Made my way back to Thailand where I met up with someone I used to know who helped me get passage on a cargo ship back to Australia. It wasn't the most upstanding crowd so they didn't ask many questions."

"When did you land?" Jean quietly asks, still processing all that he has told her.

"We landed in Perth right after Christmas. I then made my way to Adelaide to see if you had been there. I needed to figure out if you were still in danger." A loud commotion from the parlor interrupts the stillness of the bedroom. "Jean, what is going on out there?"

"Oh damn! Everyone must be up. Lucien I need to go before someone comes looking for me."

"I heard you with Amelia last night but who else is in the house?"

Jean is out of the bed rushing around the room to get some semblance of an outfit together. "Oh yes, Amelia and Ruby are staying here while Christopher is away. Ruby is due to have another baby in a few months."

"Bravo! That is wonderful news."

"Yes, it is. And of course Matthew is still here and then there is Peter."

"Peter?"

"Mmhm, a new contable. Sweet boy, very smart. He has been a very big help around the house."

Lucien's eyes sparkle as he watches his Jean flit around telling him of the new residents of the house. The young lives that add to the fabric that make it home. "Aaah, is he the one that cleaned up the garage."

Jean pauses mid motion as she is slipping on her cardigan, "No. That was Jack. He has been coming around quite often since...well, since you disappeared."

Lucien reads the caution in Jean, the unspoken _you were gone so my son came back to me. _"Good, that's very good. I'm glad he was here for you Jean. You deserve to have your boys around all the time."

"Well, I don't know if _all _the time would be good for us but it is very nice to see him regularly. Jack did a lot of healing and maturing...Lucien I don't know how he is going to react to all of this. Knowing Jack, it is very possible that he will be very angry with you."

Lucien gets out of the bed making his way to Jean. "And he will have every right to be angry at me for what I put you through. Come here." He pulls her close, placing a tender kiss on her temple. "We will figure that out when the time comes. Promise."

She inhales him deeply, not wanting to leave the sanctuary of his arms and their room. "I need to go Lucien. I'll be back as soon as I can. I'll bring some breakfast."

"Maybe some of your scones?"

"For you, anything. Now don't make any noise. I'm going to take the key and lock the door from the outside. Okay?"

"Locking me in now?" he says with a wink.

"Hmm, and locking a little one out." she turns at the door to blow him a kiss.

She places the key in the pocket of her cardigan. It lays heavily amongst the soft knitted yarn, yet its weight is welcomed. The locked door once hid away the memories of lives lost, for Thomas and for herself when she chose to lock it to protect her wounded heart. Now the unassuming metal key locks the door that will keep Lucien safe from the outside world. With a simple turn she can protect him for just a little while longer in the confines of their home.


	17. Chapter 17

Jean sits at a corner table at the Colonist Club waiting for George McLeod to arrive. Cec, a steady presence behind the bar, keeps a watchful eye on her. Matthew is across the room scowling at the position that Lucien put his wife in. Jean reflects on the past few days since finding Lucien in their bedroom. As much as she would love to keep him locked away from harm, for herself to hold tightly onto, the impracticality of that became clear fairly quickly after Lucien's return.

* * *

"Nana, can I help?" Amelia dances around her grandmother's feet nearly tripping Jean.

"Not this morning, Poppet. Let's focus on eating. Go on. Sit!" Jean is trying not to lose her temper with the exuberant child. "Ruby, I was thinking that maybe you should visit your parents before you get much farther in your pregnancy. Maybe this week even, hmm?"

"I don't know Mum. I'll think about it."

"Call your mother at least and see what she thinks. In the meantime maybe you two should go for a walk. Enjoy the beautiful morning."

"If I didn't know better, I would think you were trying to get rid of us?" Ruby snickers, not noticing Jean's shoulders sag in defeat.

It isn't until mid morning when the Beazley girls head out of the house that Jean is able to slip back in the bedroom with some food for Lucien. Teetering a tray in one hand, using her hip for balance, Jean takes the key out of her pocket to unlock the heavy door. Closing it behind her with her foot before letting out a long breath. "I'm sorry. I couldn't get away any sooner. Amelia has been underfoot all morning."

"It's ok darling but you can't keep this up for long."

"I'm trying to convince Ruby to visit her mother for a few days, give us some breathing room."

"Mmm, that would be good." Lucien answers with a mouth full. "Oh how I have missed these." He takes another bite of the fresh scone.

"Really Lucien? My cooking is what you missed!" She scowls at him not really sure why his compliment on her cooking is irritating her so.

"Now Jean you know that is not what I meant."

She slumps down on the sofa next to him. "I know. I'm just...well I don't know what I'm feeling to be honest. I am so grateful to have you home, safe but this constant web of deceit is exhausting."

"I know." He places the tray aside so that he can pull her close. "Come here. We will figure this out."

"I think we need to tell Matthew and Alice that you are home." She can hear the rumble in his chest as he is about to protest. "Lucien, we owe this to them. They have been by my side, helping me, since the day you left."

"Yes, of course, you are right."

"Good, tonight. I'll invite Alice for dinner. She is always up for dinner here and I'll make sure Matthew is home. If Ruby doesn't go to her parent's we will just need to wait until they retire for the evening."

"What about that young chap?"

"Peter? He is on the roster to work." He chuckles to himself, acknowledging that his wife still knows the comings and goings of her household. "I'm also going to put a call in to meet George. I've already phoned the hotel and he hasn't checked out."

"You will do no such thing." Lucien leaps to his feet.

"Lucien I have to meet with him. I need to talk to him. I need to know more and you know as well as I that only I can do this. Besides you said you didn't think he was involved."

"I don't like this."

"It's too late to worry about what you like and don't like. We can't live like this the rest of our lives."

"At least wait till we talk with Matthew and Alice before you call George?"

"Fine but soon, Lucien. I need to go call Alice before Ruby gets home. Will you be alright?"

"Yes. I am sorry."

"Stop apologizing. Just do better."

* * *

"Jean, that was delicious." Alice joins her friend in the kitchen to clean up from the meal.

"Thank you, Alice. You know I really could teach you."

The doctor laughs at the idea. "I much rather come here and enjoy your cooking and the company. Amelia seems to be flourishing."

"Yes. She really is something isn't she." Jean's response is vacant regarding her granddaughter which Alice can't ignore.

"Jean is everything alright? You hardly spoke at dinner."

"Yes...no...Oh I don't know anymore." Jean runs a hand through her hair, loosening the hold of her curls.

Amelia runs into the kitchen, nearly knocking Jean over as she grabs onto her grandmother's leg. "Nana. Will you read my story tonight since I'm going to visit Grammie and Granddad tomorrow? Please."

"Of course Poppet. You go on up to change and I'll be right behind you." She nudges the young child out of the kitchen turning back to Alice before she leaves. "I need to speak with you after I'm done. Stay, keep Matthew company."

Alice makes her way into the parlor taking the sherry that Matthew offers. "Is it me or is Jean acting strange this evening?"

"You mean more strangely than normal or of lately?"

"Matthew. That's not fair. She has been under a lot of stress. All things considering she is handling herself rather well."

"Mmhm." Matthew swallows the remainder of his whiskey, pouring another before sitting down. "It's just not right what she has gone through. All this needs to end...one way or another."

"Matthew you're not suggesting…?"

"I don't know what I'm suggesting. I just know she was finally finding peace with everything and then this mess. He's not even here and he's causing her grief."

"You don't mean that? Jean has been coping because that is what Jean does but she hasn't been happy, truly happy."

Matthew lets out a heavy sigh, "I know."

The pair sit in silence waiting for Jean to return to the parlor, both deep in thought. The circumstances of the past year weigh heavily on both of them. "Jean won't need us anymore." Alice reflects with sadness.

"I'll always need your friendship Alice."

"Oh!"

Jean sits next to Alice, taking her hand giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You too Matthew. You both are family. Nothing is going to change that."

Matthew moves around uncomfortable in his seat under Jean's gaze. "How much did you hear?"

"Enough." Jean stands, motioning to her friends, "Come on you two. There is someone you need to see." She unlocks the bedroom door allowing her friends to cross the threshold to meet their long lost friend.

Jean hears Alice's gasp as she locks the door. She watches Matthew's steel face as Alice bounds across the room to embrace Lucien. Jean gives Matthew's arm a squeeze pulling him from the trance that Lucien's presence put him in.

"When did you get back?" Alice asks, her smile reaching her eye.

"Just yesterday." Lucien makes his way towards his best mate, his hand outstretched in a welcoming manner, only to draw back sensing his irritation. "Matthew, I know there are a lot of explanations that I owe you and I will give them to you in time."

"Yesterday?" Matthew turns to Jean.

"Matthew!" Alice clips.

"Matthew, Lucien and I needed a little time to ourselves. Wouldn't you agree?"

The chief superintendent deflates under the women's glares. He wants to be angry with his friend. He wants to take him outside and kick his arse into tomorrow but it will do no one any good so he looks at Lucien, who knows a beating is due to him when the time is right. In the meantime Matthew offers his hand in truce.

"Glad you made it home Lucien."

"Thank you Matthew. And thank you for taking care of Jean for me. It means everything…"

"We took care of each other. It's what friends do."

After the initial tense moments and unspoken truce between the men, they begin talking of the missing time. Soon the rhythm of the four friends is as if no time has passed. The fluidity of their thinking becomes one as they hash out a plan to get the answers that are needed to truly bring Lucien home.

It is very late when Jean makes her way to bed after seeing Alice out. Lucien is already in the comforts of their bed, exhaustion quickly takes over, both falling into a deep sleep in the comfort of each other's warmth.

* * *

The small hand on her cheek and whispery breath saying _Nana _has Jean's eye open wide with terror. Before her, standing so close to the bed that she can smell the sweet sleep still on the child, is their granddaughter. "Amelia!" At once Jean realizes her folly, upon returning to the studio in her exhaustion she forgot to lock the door behind her.

"Nana, there's a ghost." The small child's lips tremble with fear, her voice quivering. "Papa is a ghost."

Jean sits up rousing Lucien, "Oh my sweet girl, no. No ghost. Come here."

"But Nana." The little finger pointing at Lucien shatters him. He leaps out of bed, rounding it to kneel beside their granddaughter.

"Amelia, don't be afraid my dear. It really is me."

Jean joins Lucien next to Amelia, smoothing the worry from the young child's face. "Look, my poppet." Jean rubs her hand along Lucien's arm showing Amelia that he is real. "Don't be afraid. Papa came home to us."

"Really?" The same small finger that pointed towards Lucien in fear now pokes Lucien's cheek which brings a teary grin to his face. "It really is you." She says in awe before leaping in his arms.

Lucien, holding the child tightly, looks to Jean, "now what?"

The added worry clear on her face as she thinks what to do. "Amelia, dear, remember when you kept mummy's big secret about the new baby from me?" The little head nods fiercely causing curls to bob all around. "Well, I need you to keep Papa being home a secret just between us for a little while. Do you think you can do that?"

"Yes, Nana."

Lucien chimes in, uncertain of a five year olds ability to keep secrets. "I don't know about this. Maybe we should change the plan."

"Papa, I can do it. I didn't tell Nana mummy's secret even though sometimes it was all tickley in my brain." Her eyes grow wide, looking so much like her grandmother that Lucien chuckles.

"That's right, you didn't and this secret is just as important to keep so that when the time is right it can be a big surprise. Understand?"

The child nods once again, "I like surprises." Then turns to her grandfather. "We missed you Papa. I'm very glad you came home. Nana said you were just missing and that missing things sometimes find a way back to us. And you did!"

This is the unraveling of the pair as they hold Amelia between them. Jean swallows hard to dissolve the lump in her throat. "Go on now and get dressed. I'll be in the kitchen in a moment to make breakfast before you and mummy need to leave."

When Amelia is out of the room, Jean rises from the floor and begins to prepare for the day. The silence in the room, unnerving to Lucien. "Jean?"

"We have four days to get this straightened out, you hear me." Jean looks at him through her vanity mirror, eyes piercing through him. "I'll make the calls as soon as Ruby leaves. This has to end, Lucien. This isn't fair on any of us."

"You are absolutely right. Contact Cec first. Make sure he can secure the rooms for us."

Jean nods. "What if they don't come?"

"They will." He kisses the top of her head reassuringly. "And I won't be far from you."

"Right." She stands abruptly. "Let's do this and get our lives back. Let's truly bring you home."

* * *

**Very sorry for the long delay with getting this chapter out. Circumstances with world events is making it difficult for me to find time to write since I'm homeschooling my children now. Please know I have not abandoned this story and have every intentions of finishing it. Enjoy.**


	18. Chapter 18

Matthew enters the Colonist Club in his civilian attire. He finds a quiet table across the room from where Jean will sit. Cec approaches the table.

"Can I get you something sir?

"A pint. And Cec..." Matthew motions for Cec to come closer. "Could you go to the alley door? The one Jean has used before."

"Certainly, sir."

Cec takes a turn around the barroom, reminding the last remaining members to move on, that the club needs to close early for the night. He pours a long draft for the Chief Superintendent before making his way through to the kitchen. He scatters the few remaining employees to tasks in other location, none questioning the gentle man. Cec turns to the alley door, uncertain of what he will find but always trusting. When Mrs. Blake phoned asking him for help he gladly agreed, no questions asked.

The click of the door causes Jean and Lucien to jump, nerves on edge as they are, only to sigh in relief when Cec's kind face appears.

The old man's eye grow wide with shock at the sight of Lucien standing beside Jean. "Sir? You're alive?" He forgets himself and pulls Lucien into a hearty embrace.

"I am, old friend."

Turning to Jean, Cec places a hand on her cheek. "I knew something was going on with you but I never imagined. Why didn't you tell me?"

"At the time I wasn't really sure of anything. Still searching for my own answers. And Cec, it is all so dangerous but we need your help now."

"Yes, yes. Come on up the backstairs."

"Lucien, you go with Cec. I need to go through the front door."

"Right." He holds her shoulders wanting to say _you don't have to do this_ but he knows that it isn't true. Only she can do this. So instead of words he just kisses her deeply before heading through the door to the back rooms of the Colonists.

* * *

Jean is barely in her seat waiting for her sherry to arrive when Major Hannam walks into the bar. He locates her quickly in the empty room, taking note of the police officer watching his every move.

"Mrs. Blake. You wanted to speak to me?"

"Yes, Major. Please have a seat."

Hannam hesitates but his curious nature gets the best of him. He takes a the seat across from Jean, "What do you want from me Mrs. Blake?" Knowing that Jean is not a frivolous woman easily played, he gets right to the point.

"Why did you send my husband to the Malay Peninsula?"

"I didn't."

"Major, I don't have time for games or splitting hairs."

Her steel blue eyes gazing upon him causes Hanam to shift in his chair despite himself before steadying himself. He knows the questions that she is looking for answers to but he doesn't have them. _Damn, I can understand how Blake fell for this woman._ In the moment it takes for the thought to cross his mind he decides to tell her everything he knows of the situation.

"General Graham had been closely involved with the situation in Vietnam. He was looking for someone that knew the area, that could be trusted. He approached me with Major Blake's name as a viable option to assist with some ground work over there. He remembered your husband from the war and his post war work, knew that I had, let's say, an acquaintance with him, so I was asked to contact him about giving his service once again."

"But you didn't think he would actually join up, did you? I mean after everything that happened with Alderton."

"No I didn't. To be honest I was very surprised that the general came to me with his name. I think someone put Lucien's name in his head. My orders were to talk to him and that is all I did." He is about to end the confession there but Jean's raised brow urges him to continue. "That really is all I did. I spoke to him twice a couple weeks apart and left it. Then one day he is calling to meet with the general and I with all sorts of terms if he agrees to the mission."

"But he didn't show." Jean's mind is swirling with all the connections that are being made.

"No, he didn't. Then I read how he disappeared."

He watches as her eyes change color, "and you never questioned it? My husband is set to do a secret intelligence mission for the army and no one even looked into what happened?" The rage in Jean makes her voice rise causing Matthew and Cec to move closer to the table.

Hannam is aware of the shift in the men but remains focused on Jean. "I did, Mrs. Blake. I've done a lot of digging into the disappearance of your husband. I know that the army had nothing to do with the Major landing in Singapore." Jean's face betrays her, "yes, I know he landed in Singapore. I know everything that happened to him in his travels into Vietnam just as I know that Dr. Lucien Blake is not buried in that cemetery. I would even bet that he is here watching over you tonight."

Jean's change in breathing confirms Hannam's hunch that Lucien is close by. "I'm glad he has made it home to you. Whether you want to believe it or not I am one of the good guys, Mrs. Blake." Hannam stands abruptly taking the three by surprise. "Now I will take my leave. If I continue to be correct in my hunches you will be waiting for someone else's arrival soon." He turns to leave then turns back, "Be careful, Mrs. Blake. You are very clever but not everyone plays as nicely as I do." Before leaving the bar Major Hannam looks at the closed door to the small office that Lucien is hiding in and smirks.

Behind the closed door Lucien strains to hear the conversation in the bar. The faint words are not more than a mumble. The designated knock on the door is not given so he remains in his hiding place, trusting his friends to watch over his Jean.

* * *

Jean's fingers run over the edge of her sherry glass digesting all that Major Hannam told her. She thinks of all the pieces, all the players as if it is an elaborate chess game waiting for George to walk through the doors. With another sip of sherry, her brow creases in thought, she looks around the room at Cec, Matthew, and the closed door that Lucien is behind and it comes to her. They are there to protect her, the queen in this ruthless game. _That's it! There are two queens in a game of chess. They both want to protect their queen. _

The last piece of the puzzle is in place for Jean. She will never fully understand the male brain, their rationale for the things they do but she does understand the love that some men have for their women; a deep profound unconditional love. Lucien will always be willing to give his life for hers and her happiness which is why they are in this very predicament. The images of Paris are clear in her mind as George McLeod's large looming frame enters through the doorway.

If the Scotsman is wary of the nearly empty room he shows no outward signs. He walks past the bar speaking to Cec, never taking his eyes off of Jean. "I'll have a whiskey neat." He continues towards the table giving Jean a hard smile that causes her skin to crawl. "Hullo lass."

"Please, take a seat."

"Nae. I won't be staying long enough." George takes the tumbler from Cec, downing the amber liquid in one swallow.

"Why are you still in Ballarat, Mr. McLeod? I would have thought you would be heading home to Fleur right after the funeral." Jean's gaze never falters from the large man.

"Unfinished business."

Jean is getting restless of the mind games that George continues to want to play. She wants, needs this to end now. "Did you ever care what happened to Lucien or was he always one of your pawns?"

"Aye, long ago Lucien was one of me best mates."

"But?"

"But it is of no concern of yours, lass. Now I bid you farewell." The large man gives a dramatic mocking bow towards Jean giving her the seconds she needs in her anger to pull the gun from her purse. The same gun that Lucien purchased for her to protect herself, the gun that has weighed her purse down for weeks now in her search for the truth.

When George lifts his head he sees the gun pointing towards him. All pretense of friendliness shatters as the Scot's menacing laughter fills the room. "You really are quite something but you won't shoot me." He turns taking two steps towards the door when a deafening blast of a gunshot shakes the room.

The room is deadly quiet in the moments after as four men look at Jean in shock for in the seconds that the gunshot rang out Lucien bounds out of the small office to protect his wife. Jean's hand remains steady addressing George, "Now please take a seat."

The venom is thick in his voice as he pulls out a chair to sit, "You missed."

"Did I? If you still had that arm I believe that bullet would have gone clear through your brachial artery. You would be dead within the hour without assistance." The look of astonishment on George's face has her adding, "many years working for a doctor and police surgeon comes in quite handy."

"Lucien, you did say she was something special."

"Yes, she is." Lucien says, taking the seat next to his wife removing the gun from her hand. "Cec, why don't you go finish downstairs." Lucien waits till his old friend is safely out of the barroom. "Why George? I thought we were friends. I trusted you with my life so many times."

George snickers, shaking his head. "I knew it was too convenient for you to drop dead in your hometown." The large man suddenly looks small as his shoulders sag in defeat. "You know in our line of work there is no such thing as friends. We gave up the right to remain university mates when we signed our lives away. I really did respect you for your talents and tried to protect you from yourself for so many years. After the war, you were the perfect spy; angry, intelligent, lonely but you were your own worst enemy. Your relentless search for Mei Lin and Li blinded you to so much. Your goddamn trusting nature always wanting to help the underdog. You would have been removed years ago if I didn't insist that you were harmless."

"I don't follow. What do you mean?" Jean can feel the tension in her husband, his leg muscles hardening next to her leg.

"After the Eiffel Tower incident, I convinced the brass that you were unstable, that they should let you be. You wanted out and they let you go. But they kept a man on you at all times. When your father died and you stayed in Ballarat they placed a couple people here."

"The grocer Mr. Camisa and his son Tony." Jean interrupts.

George has a glimmer in his eye at Jean's deductions. "You know we could use a woman like you. Yes, Giuseppe wanted to have a quieter life in his golden years so he and Tony became the newest grocers in Ballarat, quickly winning over the business of the Blake housekeeper with their fair prices and excellent selections. They easily watched the coming and going of the good doctor."

Jean feels the churn in the pit of her stomach remembering the first time she walked in that store. The old gentleman won her over in minutes. Through the years he kindly helped with any request whether it be for her home or the orphanage. She can't help the rise of tears that rest in her eyes at the feeling of how violated her trust has been. Lucien takes a hold of her hand to steady her.

George continues, "It would all have been fine even with Derek's meddling but you had to go and fall in love. See that has always been your greatest weakness, your heart. You care too much."

Lucien is seething about to use Jean's gun when she speaks. "But that is your very own weakness too, isn't George? It is why you can see it in Lucien. How you know to use me to harm him. Isn't that right?" She notices the slightest twitch in the man's lip. "Fleur and your children, were they being threatened?"

George looks at the Blakes, knowing the final move is made, _check mate._ He looks at Lucien holding Jean's hand and relinquishes defeat. "Gabriel Aries put it together after seeing you in Paris. He started talking thinking it would be his way up in ranks."

"So you killed him?" Jean questions.

George shakes his head, "Collateral damage for talking too much. They wanted someone to pay for the breakdown. It was my family or yours Lucien. Fleur has been by my side for so long, never questioning anything. I have kept her safe, protected her from the evils that make up my life. What would you do if you had to choose between your wife and another man's?"

"Now what? It is only a matter of days before word will be out that I'm alive. How will you protect them if you go home?"

The Scotsman rises, the scraping of the chair on the floor causing Matthew to stand. Locking eyes with Jean, "In time she will get a call as you did informing her of my demise. She will spend the remainder of her days grieving for a man that doesn't deserve it. You, lass, are a worthy woman." He turns to Lucien. "Take her home and be the man she deserves."

* * *

Matthew approaches them, George's heavy footsteps echo in the silent room. "You just going to let him go?"

Jean and Lucien look to each other, then to Matthew. Lucien speaks first, "There is nothing we can do. The people behind this for all intents and purposes do not exist."

Jean follows, "I don't think anything that the law could do to him would be worse than the punishment he will be living."

"I think you are right, my darling." He pulls her close into his side.

"I'll go get Cec and take care of things here. You two go home."

"Thank you Matthew." Matthew pauses at the bullet hole in the wall, looking back at Jean shaking his head.

"Would you have really shot him?" Lucien pulls her closer.

"I honestly don't know Lucien and that frightens me." She rests her head on his chest. "It will never really be over will it?"

"I'll talk to Graham, make it better."

"But there will always be someone watching us."

He holds her tighter, "I am no threat to them. We will have our life back. I promise."

"I want to go home."

"Me too and never leave."

They exit the Colonists Club, two people as one, through the front door, onto the street of their hometown.


	19. Chapter 19

The pair walk on the seemingly empty sidewalk to the car, fingers interlaced, a lingering kiss before he opens the car door for his wife. The street light gives just enough glow for the lone person walking down the opposite side of the street to recognize the Blakes. One curious observant busybody is all it takes to start the dominos to fall.

The phone calls begin shortly after what is deemed a respectable time in the morning all across Ballarat. By the time the phone rings at the house on Mycroft Avenue word that Lucien Blake is alive and well has reached half of the townspeople. When Jean hangs up the receiver her face tells the men that all is not well.

"Jean, what is it?"

"That was Bill Hobart asking if it was true."

Lucien shifts nervously in his chair, "If what is true?"

Jean throat tightens, "if you were alive. He said it is all over town that you are alive. We must have been seen last night."

Matthew hand bangs on the table. "Bloody hell. This will be a fine mess to deal with. I better get to the station. You two get your story straight."

Jean sits heavily in the chair, "well, there we have it."

"I know this isn't the way we talked about getting the news out but it's done. I need to get to Melbourne before it gets out of control."

"Gets out of control!" Jean abruptly stands, the fire raging in her eyes. "This whole damn thing has been out of control since you chose to leave, Lucien. The townspeople, my friends; my family watched me morn you, bury you, for God's sake!"

"Jean…" He tries to reach out for her but she steps just out of reach.

"No Lucien. It isn't that simple. You can't just think embracing me will fix everything. Yes, WE need to go to the base in Melbourne but," Lucien shakes his head to try and protest. Jean raises a hand to stop him, "but first you need to call our loved ones before the rumors reach them. I will not have Charlie hear it from one of his station mates." She hands the receiver to Lucien while she dials the familiar number. "I will finish getting ready while you talk to him."

"What should I say to him?"

"The truth. None of this is going to be easy Lucien but I am tired of lying to people. You need to make this right with everyone. Start with him." A _hello_ is heard on the line as Jean turns away from the kitchen.

* * *

He finds Jean sitting at his desk in the surgery. He watches from the doorway trying to read her face but she is staring into the void of the surgery. One brow arches high with a thought. Lucien can't help but smile at the familiar expression that is so unique to his Jean.

She can feel him watching her long before she reacts to his presence. It will do no one any good to be angry with him. She doesn't have the time or energy for anger. What is done is done and they need to move forward.

She lets out a heavy sigh before cocking her head towards Lucien. "How did it go with Charlie?"

"Fine, good. He asked about you. I'm sure he will visit soon."

"Charlie is a good man. I'll phone Jack and then Ruby. I'm sure Amelia is about ready to bust trying not to tell Ruby that you are home." Lucien steps further into the surgery taking his first good look around the room, at the empty shelves, and cabinets. The walls are bare where once charts hung. "I had to clean out the medical supplies. I donated what the orphanage could use to Sister Josephine. The rest I gave to Alice. Lucien, patients needed to move on to other doctors. People need a doctor that is here to care for them."

"Of course." His hand is rubbing the back of his head. Jean is at his side, her small hand taking a hold of his, pulling herself into the embrace that she denied him earlier.

"I love you." She rubs her hand along his beard, the feel of the coarse hair on her finger tips a comfort that she will never tire of. "Shall we do this?"

He leans down to capture her lips before answering. "Yes. Let's get Christopher home." The phone rings but neither make a move to answer it.

At the front door Jean hands Lucien his fedora and straightens his tie before they exit their home. She can't help but enjoy the flutter in her stomach at the sight of the striking figure of her husband in his best blue suit. "Ready?"

"With you by my side I'm ready for anything, my darling."

They step out in the brisk winter air, the morning sun bright above. They are not even off the porch when a car is pulling in the driveway. "Lucien, just go into the car." She pushes him along.

"Who is that?"

"Someone from the newspaper."

"Mrs. Blake." The annoying editor yells out from the car window. "So it is true."

"Mr. Carver, I don't have time for this now. Lucien, get in the car."

"But Mrs. Blake you are a town council woman and this is big news. Your constituents have a right to know." He gets out of his vehicle. With a few long strides he is by the Blakes, a hand out to shake. "Dr. Blake, pleasure. I am Martin Carver, editor of the Courier. Jean, you know it will be only a matter of time before you will be surrounded by reporters from all over Victoria. Wouldn't you rather have a friend deliver the story first."

Jean continues to maneuver Lucien into the car as if directing a willful child. "Yes, Mr. Carver…"

"Martin." He mumbles.

Lucien continues to watch the exchange uncertain of what the relationship is but clearly aware that his wife doesn't think highly of the man. "Mr. Carver I do indeed want a friend to report this story. That is why last night I spoke with Rose Anderson in depth. She will be running the full story in tomorrow's Herald. Now excuse us."

* * *

They drive in silence for a few miles before Lucien feels brave enough to speak. "That man, Martin Carver, you don't care for him?"

"Not particularly."

"Did he do something to you?"

"What?" Jean momentarily glances from the road to her husband, "No. He's just a typical newspaper man. And I'm just not in the mood for it Lucien."

He throws his hands up, "fair enough." He watches her with a sideways glance. She is driving with a determination that he is leery to cross. He finally asks, "Did you really call Rose?"

"Yes. Last night after you fell asleep. I knew it would only be a matter of time in a town like Ballarat that someone would find out something so I gave her a story. I called her after you spoke to Charlie, told her to get it in tomorrow's morning edition. I know this may be difficult for you to grasp but I am a member of the town council with obligations."

"I know Jean. And I am ever so proud of you." He begins to fiddle with a button on his overcoat. "What did you tell Rose? What story I mean."

"I guess you'll need to read the paper to find out." A tear streams down her cheek. He reaches out to wipe it away. She pulls the car over to the side of the road, turning off the engine.

"Jean?"

She lays her head on the steering wheel, her shoulders begin to shake. He aches for the pain he causes her, berating himself for not deserving her. He is about to slide over to her side and once again beg for forgiveness when Jean raises her head. The laughter that fills her takes him back.

She wipes the tears that are streaming as she tries to gain control of herself. "Lucien, I have no idea where I'm going." She burst into another fit of laughter that has Lucien looking at her as if she has lost her mind. Before he can help himself he can feel the pull of the moment in him as the chuckle rises in his throat, following with a hearty laugh that fills the car.

He takes a few deep breaths to calm himself, "I sure did make a mess of things didn't I?"

Jean reaches a hand into his jacket pocket to remove the handkerchief to clean up her face. "You did warn me that life would be messy. I think you should drive now."

They meet at the front of the car. Before Lucien can pass Jean grabs a hold of him, kissing him fiercely for any passerbyers to see. She breaks the kiss for a breath that they both require, a new glow on her face. "My life is certainly never boring with you my love."

"You know Mrs. Blake, I don't think I am entirely to blame for all the excitement any longer."

She smiles up at her husband, a smile that reaches her eyes, a smile that welcomes him home. "That is because you are a bad influence on me, doctor." She gives him a playful swat before continuing to the passenger side. "Come on. Let's finish this."


	20. Chapter 20

Jean's hands play with the strap of her purse. Her nimble fingers in continuous motion, an outlet for the nerves and anticipation that fills her. Lucien takes one hand off the steering wheel to place on top of hers. "You are going to wear a hole in the leather if you keep that up."

"Oh!" She gives a sigh and a knowing smile. "I should have brought my knitting."

"We are almost there."

"Yay!" Amelia bounces in the back seat. "Papa, will we see the airplanes?"

"I am most certain that the airfield will have airplanes." Lucien looks in the rear view mirror to catch the smile on the little girl's face then catches a similar smile on his wife's. He says a silent _thank you_ for the family that Jean has given him, for the family they have become.

"Did you hear that Uncle Jack?"

"I did, squirt." Jack sits holding his niece next to him, trying to contain her excitement to the backseat of the car.

When his mother phoned him a month prior telling him of Lucien's return. He felt the frightened angry little boy rise up in him once again. He let those feelings stay there, festering for a few days, wanting to be angry with his mother for taking that man back so easily into her life but he couldn't. That isn't the man that he is now. The man that wants, and needs his family. The angry little boy is gone leaving behind a man that isn't afraid or ashamed to love his mother for the woman she is or who she loves. Any bit of animosity that he clung to towards Lucien Blake disappeared the moment he saw his mother's face, the sparkle of happiness once again in her eyes.

Jean reaches out to Lucien, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle from his pant leg, thinking how in a month's time his best blue suit once again fits him as it should. Her mind wanders to the day he puts it on to confront General Graham resolve things, to bring Christopher home.

* * *

They arrive at General Graham's office before afternoon tea. The formidable secretary insists that the general is busy but Lucien urges her to inform the general of his presence. The secretary is behind the closed door only a moment before the general is in the doorway.

"Blake? Bloody hell."

"General, we need to talk."

"I would damn well say so."

Lucien heads towards the open door, Jean close behind. He turns, placing a firm hand on her upper arm. "No Jean. Wait here. I need to do this part on my own."

She hesitates a moment before closing in to rest her cheek against his, whispering in his ear. "Don't lose your temper. I'll be right here."

Jean sits, back straight, trying to will her body not to reflect the nervousness that she feels. She says a silent prayer that Lucien can remain calm, that he can let his head lead him not his heart. The outer office door opens, the break in the silence allowing her a moment to shift in her seat. It isn't until the footsteps come closer that she looks up from her hands.

"Major, I was wondering if I would see you."

Hannam takes the seat next to Jean, so close that his knee brushes against hers. "Your husband with the General?"

"Yes but you know that already don't you?"

"I assume he will be discussing getting your son back on Australian soil amongst other things." Jean nods. "Good. I have already started drawing up the paperwork. It doesn't happen overnight but he should be home soon."

Until this Jean's eyes remain straight ahead, avoiding eye contact with Hannam, not certain if he really is a friend or foe but with these words she turns to face him. "Why are you helping us?"

"I told you last night, Mrs. Blake, I am not the enemy besides it isn't right that your son got caught in the middle. He never should have been sent to the embassy in Saigon. It is a mess over there and only bound to get worse. The general was very upset when Major Blake didn't show up and he took it out on Captain Beazley. We can't change that but we can make it right."

"Why are you telling me this?"

For a moment a rare smile comes to his face, "I have seen men twice the size of you, trained to kill with out a second thought, quiver at my feet and yet you show no fear. You deserve to know the truth."

"You say I deserve to know the truth, then tell me why Lucien?"

"Because he was, is, one of the best we have. Even when he was a drunk and broken he could do the job like no one else."

"But that isn't him anymore. He doesn't want that life."

"I know."

"I sense a _but _in there."

"It doesn't go away that easily. There are many players in this game as you well know. Your husband knows things, things that he doesn't even know are important and some people out there don't like that. I will do what I can, Mrs. Blake, deflect interest if his name should be mentioned. I want the Major to live out his days as the country doctor, family man that he longs to be." Hannam stands to make his way into the general's office.

Jean quickly gets up, stepping in front of Hannam. "You know all the sides don't you? The players as you called them?" Her eyes fill with fury.

"Mmhm. Lucky for you then that I am a friend." Then much to Jean's surprise the sizable man gives her a bow.

* * *

She hasn't told her husband about what Hannam said to her that day. She tells herself that it is for his own good, protecting him from what she is not sure. Sometimes she try's to thinks of what it is she would even tell him; that all of their lives are expendable if they don't play by the rules. She thinks of Alderton and Sullivan, how they were _taken care of_ in order to protect Lucien, protect secrets. She can't have him discontent with the second chance that they have been given. She must continue to be the steadfast strength, the voice of reason for them to have their happiness.

Lucien flashes Jean one of his widest grins. "You three stay in the car out of the cold while I check on the plane's arrival."

"Can I come Papa, please."

Lucien shrugs, Jean shaking her head at the pair. "You keep a hold of Papa's hand."

"Yes, Nana. I won't let go, promise."

Jack leans his head over the seat, "He looks well, stronger than the last time, not so thin."

"He is and he certainly has been eating well."

"I'm sure you are making him all his favorites."

She shifts around to see her son better, "I do for all my boys. I'm glad you came today. Jack you know he…"

"Here they come back already."

They get out of the car to meet up with Lucien and Amelia. The young girl pulls her grandfather along, not wanting to disobey by letting go of the large finger that she is clinging to. There is a loud rumble in the sky at a plane's descent.

"That is Christopher's plane now."

Lucien picks up Amelia, holding her with one arm while pulling Jean close with the other. The wind and dust swirling around them, When they get the all clear signal the family makes their way towards the plane. Christopher emerges to the squeals of his daughter. Amelia wiggles her way to the ground running to her father's open arms.

Jack continues on to meet his brother but Jean pauses, her feet feeling too heavy to move, overcome with gratitude and relief.

"Jean, are you alright?" She can only nod, "come here, you." Lucien pulls her close while she composes herself.

"Mum?" She can't hide the tears that stain her face. Christopher gives his mother a long hug before pulling back with a questioning look. "Where's Ruby?"

"I'm a big sister!" Amelia exclaims skipping around the family.

"What?"

Jean takes her son's cheek in her hand, "You have a son. Born last night."

"But she wasn't due for a couple more weeks?"

"Well it seems David Christopher Beazley, after the grandfathers, wanted to be here for his father's arrival home. He is perfect and Ruby is doing well. Alice is with her at the hospital now."

Lucien grabs a hold of Amelia on her next pass around, "I think we should move along don't you agree?"

The brothers head to the car with Amelia between them swinging their hands as she goes. Jean and Lucien's fingers entwine tightly together watching from a distance.

"Thank you my darling."

"For what?"

He chuckles, "What isn't there to thank you for but at this moment for giving me all that a man could ever want. I love you." He pulls her close, kissing her deeply; she responds willingly to his touch, the softness of his lips, the scratch of his beard, everything that makes her lose herself to him once again. They reluctantly part to join their waiting family, content in the knowledge that in this moment everything is as it should be; that ahead of them is a life, a future that fulfills all their dreams.

"Alright you lot, let's go home. My rabbit stew will be ready."


End file.
